All's Well Under The Sun
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: Aeryn becomes the Peacekeeper ambassador to Earth, but life does not start running smoothly for the Sun-Crichtons. Sequel to The Trouble With Normal
1. Chapter 1

All's Well Under The Sun (PG)

This is the first of two sequels to The Trouble With Normal. It would probably help to read TTWN first. It is an action-adventure fic, so some violence, threat and language, but nothing very strong.

Not that you probably care, but this fic has had quite a long and tortuous journey to this point. I started off with outlines for the two sequels mentioned above. Then, as time passed and inspiration and word count remained elusive, I decided to combine them and go for just one sequel. Then, in beta-ing, things changed again. So now I've split it back into two fics. Hopefully you'll find this particular fic holds up in its own right, without suffering too much from the dreaded 'curse of the middle fic in a trilogy.' However, there is an unresolved twist at the end, the worst of which I'll stick in an epilogue under a Spoiler tag. Without that, though, there wouldn't be a next fic. So, you might be thinking, "Why is he holding out on us with the second sequel?" The simple answer is, it is currently going through the re-write process. How long that will take is anyone's guess. But it is there, waiting in the wings.

If this fic seems a bit too Dynasty-meets-High School Musical to you at first, please stick with it: I am going somewhere Farscapian with this. There will be things-blowing-up, maybe even some kissing, I promise.

Thanks: Vinegardog, JJ and pdsldl for betaing.

Words: About 25,500

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still no money being made, but will write fic for Tim Tams or murals of OBRHG.

Chapter 1:

John Crichton, ex-astronaut, one time top of the Peacekeepers Most Wanted list and more lately husband to Earth's first alien ambassador, stood looking out on his home planet through a large set of paned, French doors. If anyone had asked him what he was doing he would probably have replied that he was admiring beauty. The doors led out from the ambassador's private third-floor suite in the embassy-cum-residence, onto her expansive personal balcony. The place was a mansion really, set in lavish grounds in a salubrious quarter of New England. Apparently the house had been originally been built by some outrageously wealthy family back in the 1940s and steadily added to until they had moved on to bigger and better things back in the financial crisis which started in the first decade of the century.

They'd certainly spent the money well. John's gaze was drawn across the generous sweep of the mansion's lawns, which were dotted with the occasional mature tree or well tended shrubbery. Beyond those, his eye was drawn onwards across the calm expanse of water beyond the lawns and finally on towards the horizon.

There were signs that it had been raining overnight, but it had stopped now and it was shaping up to be a glorious morning.

Cycles ago, he had frequently imagined that his life would one day contain a wife, a couple of kids and a white picket fence running around a picture-postcard house. Maybe a Labrador or two. Some picture postcard, he thought, sipping on his first coffee of the morning. After twenty cycles… years, he corrected himself, of living aboard a Leviathan in deep space he had all but forgotten about that fantasy. Now it had suddenly and unexpectedly come true, and in spades. Why was it that the reality made him feel somewhat uneasy?

Ten days had passed since his family had moved into the plushly-appointed house, and three monens since the Peacekeepers' short, unofficial war with Earth had ended with the rescue of Livvy Sun from a human research facility. The time between had seen a flurry of activity as fences were mended between Earth and the Peacekeepers. Meanwhile the Peacekeepers had moved into the mansion, that they had purchased to be their base of operations on Earth, and made it their own by installing security and other equipment that they had brought with them.

The humans' finely tuned Public Relations industry had gone into immediate overdrive after the end of hostilities. They used their undoubted skills to gloss over the series of unfortunate events which had occurred to bring the Peacekeepers to Earth. After a few weeks on planet, the first Peacekeeper ambassador to Earth had given birth, which had been a coup that the PR people had loved**. **The spin doctors had also beavered away, using every opportunity to accentuate the potential benefits to Earth of their new-found friends and allies. Flesh had been pressed and bread broken with the more important Earth heads of state, including the leaders of the United States, the European Federation, and the Pacific Economic Community. The concerns of smaller countries had been partly soothed by Aeryn appearing twice at the United Nations. Numerous agreements had been signed with all sorts of organisations. Aeryn, with her faithful, human husband photogenically and diplomatically at her side at all times, had inwardly gritted her teeth and outwardly smiled her way through it all.

Amongst all the frantic work commitments, the ambassador's human family had come to visit or been visited to coo over the baby and meet the two older Sun-Crichton children. Aeryn had left those arrangements largely to John, who had started to think that, if everything from now on was always going to be so hectic, then he would rather live the life of a fugitive in the Uncharted Territories. Aeryn had laughed and suggested that if he thought his days were busy, then perhaps he would like to swap schedules with her for a day?

Things had calmed down a little since those, of course. It was fair to say that their lives were still extremely busy. John, his family and shipmates were still at the centre of a storm of attention, interest, expectations and demands. Only yesterday a detachment of their human security staff, provided by the Secret Service, had defused a potentially explosive situation. They had intervened when some sort of freelance reporter-cum-photographer had been caught following three of the younger, female Peacekeepers around during an expedition to New York to acquire a selection of appropriate local clothing. The agents had pointed out to the paparazzi that he was lucky merely to have incurred the wrath of the Secret Service, rather than a trio of affronted Peacekeeper commandos. They had not been entirely sure that he had taken the hint, and so had ensured that he had spent the remainder of his week in custody trying to explain that he was not, in fact, an assassin or terrorist or part of the vocal isolationist movement.

There had, of course, been objecting voices. Some were politically motivated, some religiously motivated, and others still were just downright bigoted. And of course there had been the usual selection of paranoids, typically males living in their mother's basements, seeking affirmation of their own wild imaginings amongst other denizens lurking in the darker and grubbier recesses of the internet. The isolationists had initially worried Aeryn, with their loudly expressed and often deeply offensive and threatening attitudes towards the Sebaceans. However, time and wise counsel had helped her to come to see them as something to be more wary than fearful of. John had spent some time reassuring her as to the relative safety of their chosen embassy site and the extent to which both the local agencies and her own people were going to ensure everyone's security.

Moya had remained in the Earth solar system for now, with a company of Peacekeepers stationed aboard. Also aboard were Chiana, Sikozu and those others amongst their long-term companions who were both uncomfortable with moving down to Earth and unwilling to find another home away from Moya. It saddened John that neither of his friends from Moya's original crew wished to come down to Earth this time, but he knew their reasons well enough. Their previous visit to Earth had not gone so well for either of them. Now, with an Earth that had had over a dozen cycles to come to terms with the existence of aliens, the naked hostility they received from some quarters made Chiana and Sikozu even less inclined to return.

So far, the only aliens based on Earth were Sebaceans. Although many humans seemed fearful of the very fact that Sebaceans so resembled them, that resemblance did have the advantage that it enabled them to blend in a little better and perhaps made them a little less intimidating. John couldn't help but smile at the thought of how humans might react to having Hynerians or Luxans amongst them on an everyday basis

John was just grateful that the official residence of the Peacekeeper ambassador to Earth was large enough to comfortably accommodate her retinue of Peacekeeper guards, techs and officials, along with the handful of Moyans who had moved in with them. It had to be, really: For the time being security and personal safety dictated that the extra-terrestrials should stick together. Of course, there were some humans working in the household as well. The security risk inherent in employing them had to be balanced against practical and political considerations and imperatives.

Politics…. John sighed… he hated politics: politics was the reason Aeryn was not with him this morning. She had made an early start, travelling to Washington with a small retinue including her recently promoted Lieutenant and personal aide, Meila Pittach. It was rotten timing, really, because today was Livvy and D'Argo's first day at their new school, but it couldn't be helped. The US administration had been insistent about wanting to talk to Aeryn today.

When they had first agreed to stay on Earth John had been reluctant to let the children attend a school and had wanted them tutored at home. His mind had been filled with fears of the risks such a move might expose them to. That didn't go down well with either D'Argo and Livvy, who felt that they would be missing out on some genuine Earth experiences by being coddled at home, nor with Aeryn, who had insisted that her children were up to the threats and challenges of some primitive backwater planet. When the Secret Service and finally the school itself had also closed ranks and argued against him, John knew that he was doomed to lose this one. The expensive, redbrick, private educational establishment was used to dealing with the offspring of the rich and powerful and the delicate balance of security, privacy and obsequiousness which that often implied. But it would still have been nice if Aeryn could have been present to see them off and wish them luck.

John took one last look out of his window, draining his coffee and tracking the distant arrowhead of birds flying over the lagoon, before lifting their newborn baby son, Talyn, from his cot and heading down to breakfast.

'~'

Deke had kept his head down as much as possible through his classes in his first morning at a human school, observing carefully. Although it was hard for him to conceal that his knowledge and abilities in math and science seemed far ahead of those of his classmates, he had decided that it was the best strategy. He didn't want to stand out as a nerd, or worse, draw attention to himself and so reveal his identity on his first day, even though he hated downplaying his talents. Even so, several of the larger, more athletic boys in his classes had already made one or two challenging remarks. Deke put it down to them being troubled by his own not inconsiderable physical presence. They probably felt threatened and were testing out the new boy, establishing dominance and pecking order, as his dad would say. He was pretty sure that his mother would have just told him to Pantak jab them and be done with it.

The afternoon was set aside for team sports and, at this time of year, that seemed to mean the game called American Football. Deke was perplexed as to why it was called football, when it didn't seem to involve kicking the ball. It was not really a ball, either, in that it was not spherical, but he discretely kept those thoughts to himself. What he couldn't disguise was that, despite having watched some of his dad's old tapes on Moya, and playing the odd game of catch with the old man along Moya's corridors, he had no real experience of the game. Unfamiliar with the complex and unwieldy clothing required to play, he stumbled through getting changed and ready, and was the last to make his way out onto the sports field.

"Where you been all your life?" scoffed one of the bigger boys, who Deke now understood were termed jocks. Why, he could not fathom.

"What?" Deke frowned. "Oh, abroad: We moved around a lot." He supplied as the penny dropped as to what the other boy might mean. At that moment, the coach stepped in.

"C'mon, we're gonna warm up first, then we'll see what you got," Mr. McPhee, the slightly corpulent older man encouraged his newest pupil.

Even if Deke didn't outpace his classmates in the warm-up run, it was clear by the end of it that he was amongst the least out of breath. He also couldn't fake the ease with which he caught the ball, nor the strength or accuracy with which he threw it back. One of the jocks who had been testing him out earlier in the day came across as they were waiting for the division into teams. Deke eyed the boy warily as he approached; expecting trouble, ready to return any that came his way.

The jock stopped before Deke, almost toe to toe. Then he grinned, reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. "Deke, isn't it?" Deke nodded, looked at the jock's hand where it rested on his shoulder then looked him quizzically in the eye. The jock laughed. "Well, you don't look like much," He squeezed Deke's shoulder in a drannit-sized, ham-like hand, grinned and chuckled. "But I reckon you'll be on the squad in no time!"

'~'

Livvy had been pleasantly surprised by how easily she had been accepted by her new school class: But then, few, if any of them, realised who she actually was. That was probably owing to a combination of a number of factors. In accordance with normal practice at the school, the staff had been careful not to publicise who her parents were. In addition**,** the students here were used to their classmates coming and going. Of course, many of them were too wrapped up in themselves to pay anyone else, least of all the shy, new girl, very much attention. As she made her way, largely ignored by her fellow students, to her next class, Livvy Sun passed a restroom and, feeling the call of nature, went in.

Four pairs of painted eyes turned to regard her from beneath the fringes of their expensive haircuts as Livvy pushed through the inner door into the hand-wash area. Three older girls, maybe closer to Deke's age were gathered round a smaller girl whom Livvy recognized as being from her own year group. The elder girls all had the same look about them: long, straight hair, almost as pale as a Nebari's, and dressed in skirts which were so short that Livvy wondered why they bothered wearing them at all. They were almost certainly not regulation length. The part of her which was a Peacekeeper fumed at their disregard for the rules. She blinked and cocked her head, trying to assess the situation.

"Ow!" the younger girl protested in tears as one of the elder girls twisted her arm. "Please… I'll bring it in tomorrow…"

Livvy paused for a second, weighing up her options, before moving forwards, apparently towards the cubicles. One of the older girls bristled.

"Push off, squirt!" The apparent leader of the bullies snarled at Livvy.

"Unless you wanna be next?" sneered another.

One of the older girls, probably the second sidekick, advanced on Livvy, reaching out an expensively manicured hand, clearly meaning to shove Livvy back towards the entrance. Livvy calmly swung her bag onto her back. Then, fast as lightning, she reached out and intercepted the older girl's hand with one of her own, just before it made contact with her chest. The attacker gasped in pain and surprise, crumpling to her knees as Livvy twisted the girl's hand upwards and backwards in her extraordinarily strong grip. It was an elementary self defence move, one which her father had told her that even humans knew about. Evidently these particular humans didn't, though, she quickly realised. Livvy, on the other hand, had spent arns every weeken throughout her whole life being drilled in unarmed combat by her mother and others of the crew of Moya: It may have been a simple move, but it was sufficient for now. Besides, the elder girls, despite their superior numbers and size, excited no fear in her when compared to a single, adult Peacekeeper sparring partner.

"Why you little…." The ringleader hissed, moving swiftly and aggressively to reassert her authority and rescue her associate. She bore down on Livvy with evil intent and claws outstretched. Livvy neither flinched nor released her grip on the other girl's hand. Instead, she simply re-angled her body, waiting for the optimum moment to deliver a fierce kick with the flat of her foot to the advancing girl's knee. The elder girl crumpled to the restroom floor beside her friend, howling and clutching at her leg.

Livvy flashed one of the more predatory smiles she had learnt from her mother at the remaining bully, who quickly released her victim and fussily helped her leader to her feet. The girl whom Livvy had rescued wasted no time in making her way round behind her saviour. Once there, Livvy twisted her own hand, flipping the girl she was holding over onto her back before finally releasing her. As the three bullies clutched each other and climbed back to their feet, Livvy caught their gaze, raised an eyebrow, bared her teeth and gave what could only be described as a bark. The bullies shuddered, flinched and squeaked involuntarily at the unexpected sound.

"Come on Heather, we're outta here!" The leader whined, never taking her eyes off Livvy as the three of them hurriedly made their exit.

"You were amazing… How'd you learn to do that?" gushed the remaining girl once the attackers had gone.

"What? Oh… My mum taught me," Livvy shrugged, not wanting to go into detail and so reveal her identity.

"What's your name? I'm Sandra, Sandra Meade," the girl continued.

"Hmm, Olivia. Call me Livvy," Livvy replied, deliberately not adding either Sun or Crichton. She knew dad would be furious if he found out she had gotten into a fight on her first day. Mum, on the other hand, would probably be secretly proud, but would still likely tell her off for risking damage to Earth-Peacekeeper relations. Consequently, Livvy's mind was already preoccupied with how she could hush up this little incident.

"~"

John had the news playing on the TV whilst he fed baby Talyn his lunch. He wasn't really paying attention to the stories – it all seemed so provincial to him now. He only briefly perked up when a story came on about what the Earthlings still insisted on terming the aliens. He recognised library pictures of himself, Aeryn and Moya as they flashed across the screen. John grabbed the remote and turned the volume up. But it turned out to be pretty boring stuff, speculation, nothing of any novelty, substance or consequence. Didn't these people have anything more worthwhile to do, he wondered to himself as the weather forecast came on?

The phone rang. John put down Talyn's spoon and picked up the receiver.

"Yes…. No…. How'd you get this number….? Look, they're not girls, they're women, and no, none of them would be interested in appearing in your magazine….. Or in one of your shows or videos…. Yes I'm sure about that…. Well, yes, maybe you could ask them yourself, but I wouldn't recommend it….No, I will not ask any of them for you, I'm not your pimp and I like my face just the way it is…. No means NO: Don't call this number again!"

John slammed the phone down and took a deep breath. Baby Talyn cackled and squealed.

"Yeah, I know son, crazy Erplings," he remarked before lifting the receiver and dialling. "John here. Uhhum. Look, the last number to dial in here…. Trace it, block it. Yeah, from all our phones. Great. Thanks. And pass the number along to the Secret Service, tell them there's been a security snafu."

John put the phone down again and then let out a heartfelt sigh, refocusing himself on more pleasant tasks, letting the red mist lift. "Now, lunch," he said, smiling down at Talyn. Some things never changed. Tavleks and babies, for instance. Maybe it was time for him or Aeryn to appear on some chat shows, do some more interviews, that sort of thing: Go more onto the PR offensive? If only he could get her into a dress, or even a skirt-suit….

"~"

"How was your day honey?" John asked as Aeryn glided into their private lounge. It was dark when she'd left this morning, and it was dark now that she'd arrived back home. She could probably do with a bit of help relaxing, he'd decided. If that meant he had to act like a housewife in a 1950's TV sitcom, so be it. She was resplendent in the red, white and black dress uniform of a Peacekeeper commandant, or was it ambassador? John was not really sure, not really that interested in the difference, if there was one, truth be told. But he did like the polished shine on her black leather pants and how the white seams accentuated the curve and length of her legs.

"Long," Aeryn replied, dropping her jacket on the sofa before throwing her body down beside it. "They're still dragging their heels on the Fairfax prosecutions."

"It's the Erp way," John remarked, flashing her a wink as he finished preparing her a hot drink at the counter, which stood at the far side of the room. "Talk, talk talk. We're all just a bunch of yappy good-for-nothings."

Aeryn snorted her agreement as John tapped the spoon dry on the edge of the cup.

"It was nice to see Kovack again," Aeryn conceded, running her hands through her hair and letting out a weary sigh. "But otherwise, I could have done without the rest of the trip." She returned his wink. "Especially all the talk." 

"How was he?" He asked, handing her a cup of green tea, which he had begun boiling the water to brew as soon as the Marauder pilot had commed to say they were coming in to land.

"Fine. He said to say 'Hey'. Frelling fahrbot human," she grinned at her husband as she nursed the drink, releasing a little of her tension with one of their private jokes. "How were things here?"

"I think the kids enjoyed their first day at school," John replied, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "At least, that's the story they're telling me."

Aeryn ached an eyebrow at that but said nothing. She didn't need to.

"Everything went smoothly with your meetings?" John asked, working on the bright, polished buckles to her calf-length boots.

"As well as can be expected. I know where I am with most of it, but some people in your government are talking about why you, and some of the humans we met last time, haven't aged as much as expected." She blew gently across the top of her steaming mug. "Actually, a lot of them seem fixated on it."

"What do they want?" John asked, gently tugging off the first boot. "I mean, their guesses are as good as ours."

"They think it's the translator microbes. I'm not sure if they believe me when I say we don't really know if it is." Aeryn's newly-liberated toes wiggled, delighting in their freedom.

"But they want them anyway?" John began working on the clasps securing her second boot.

"Yes and no. They want them. I just don't think they want everyone to have them." She abandoned the steaming drink for now, setting it down on the adjacent occasional table.

"Ah," John commented. In his decades away from Earth, some things hadn't changed. That the rich and powerful liked to keep certain advantages to themselves was one of them.

"Ah indeed, John," Aeryn sighed, reclining deeper into the sofa as John gently removed her second boot for her. "I wonder if I might have made a terrible mistake accepting this job. All this scheming and deal-making. It's just not me."

"Hey honey, you're doing fine." He rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down her leg, fingers following the outseam, until his palm came to rest on her knee. "Maybe what you need is to find one particular thing that really interests you. For the rest, you can just be the figurehead. Get other people to do those things."

"I'm the ambassador, John, it's my job. I can't just say I only want to do the nice things."

"Was the president at your meetings today?" John asked softly, moving round to join her on the sofa and snag her hand and squeeze it gently.

"No," she replied, frowning as she struggled to understand what he was getting at or, alternately, why he had changed subject so abruptly.

"Right, no. He delegated." John explained. "You should do the same. If we don't have the right people, ask to have some assigned here."

Aeryn considered John's advice carefully for a few microts. He was right, of course. She would look into it tomorrow. But for now all she wanted was some time with her family and a bite to eat.

"Third meal will be about 30 minutes," John commented, seeming to read her thoughts as he gently rubbed her hand. "Thought you might like it if we ate as a family. Just you me and the kids. So we had a snack earlier to keep us going till you got home."

Aeryn buried her tiredness and flashed him a broad smile. "That would be perfect, John," she replied. It was looking like the evening might make up for the day, after all.

'~'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"~"

The rest of the week passed by in the usual, barely controlled, crazy rush: The embassy staff, both Peacekeeper and human, continued to settle into their new jobs and, for the Peacekeepers, the planet and accommodations. The senior staff and the ambassador were kept horrendously busy meeting or gently deflecting people who felt they were too important to wait their turn to be introduced to the aliens.

Jack rang up and arranged to visit for the weekend whilst Susan and John finally managed to agree on a time for a private dinner between them and their respective spouses for three weeks in the future: Although it had only been ten days since they had last seen Jack and three weeks since they had last met Susan, both seemed keen to make up for lost time now that John had once again returned from a distant galaxy.

Aeryn had even had a new car delivered on the Wednesday, a German sportscar painted and upholstered in the style of a Prowler. It had other, more discrete and specialist customisations too, some added after delivery by Peacekeeper techs, but those were not a subject for casual conversation. It certainly stood out amongst the large, utilitarian and anonymous vehicles usually employed by both the embassy and their Secret Service details. However, Aeryn was kept so busy with work that she barely found time to look at her new car, far less to drive it.

'~'

Another Monday morning dawned. The days, be they weekdays or weekends, were dangerously close to merging into a single, demanding blur. John settled down next to Aeryn with a mug of coffee and the sheaf of mail which his personal assistant had thought that he ought to see. If there was one thing that made him truly understand that he had returned to Earth, it was coffee. Coffee and opening the morning post. He smiled at Aeryn, who looked up and smiled back before returning her attention to whatever report she was reading on her small computer. A cup of green tea sat on a table beside her, cooling rapidly to a temperature acceptable to a Sebacean. John loved these moments of domesticity, especially now that the older kids were at school. When they were both at the mansion and their schedules allowed he revelled in the opportunity to spend half an hour doing something together. The feeling was best of all was if it was something mundanely normal, such as sitting in the conservatory, going through the mail and sharing a coffee break. Well, coffee for him, anyway. Aeryn couldn't stand the stuff.

"Hey honey," John announced on reaching the third item in his mail. "Seems we've been asked to dinner."

Aeryn shrugged. That was hardly new: everyone seemed to want an evening either with 'the head alien' or with the 'human who had returned from the stars'. She was surprised that John had thought it worthy of special mention, although she did wonder why one of their assistants had not simply declined the invitation or added it to their calendars, rather than passing it on to John. "So?" she remarked, not looking up from scrolling through the report on her computer.

"So," John smiled, "This isn't Uncle Sam, the UN or some other government. It's one of the other parents at school. Seems the kids've been making friends. They want to have us over, welcome us to the neighbourhood. Beer and a barbi?"

That caused Aeryn to stop and turn her face to John. She'd never before had such a social invitation to dinner. The very thought of something so new and foreign gave her the rattlers. John immediately caught on to both her nervousness and the likely reason for it. This sort of thing was so far out of her experience, so far out of her comfort zone. Facing down a vengeful Sheyang? No problem. Having to pass herself off as a soccer mom from Wyoming….? A different matter entirely.

"You've been to plenty of formal dinners: You'll be fine," John tried to reassure her, leaning over and gently play-punching her arm. He could see from her face, though, that although she wasn't saying anything, she was bottling up her fears and was still far from reassured. "This'll be the same, but more relaxed, like one of our celebrations on Moya," he soothed. He could tell from the look on her face that she was having a hard time reconciling her memories of some of the more outrageous parties on Moya with her mental image of the staid parents who sent their children to the expensive and exclusive school which Deke and Livvy attended. "But probably with less booze and high jinx?" John added as an afterthought.

"Ah," Aeryn replied, eloquently arching an eyebrow to communicate that she understood. "So no getting drunk and making loud, sexual remarks?" she teased with an obviously joking, sad expression.

'~'

As it turned out, the dinner which they had been invited to was held on a yacht, or gin palace, as John archly described it, whispering snarky remarks in Aeryn's ear as they were making their way along the jetty to board. Aeryn had never been on a vessel quite like it before. For that matter, neither had John, although at least he was familiar with the concept. The enormous white boat seemed large enough to act as a permanent residence for several families, although it was clear even to Aeryn that it's true purpose was not accommodation: This was a plaything and a statement of extreme wealth. Remembering the movie they had watched two evenings previously, John jokingly suggested that armed minions in snappy uniforms and a long-haired, white cat might be lurking just out of sight, earning him a snigger and a gentle back-handed slap to the abdomen from Aeryn.

They eventually arrived at the gangway. There, a uniformed crewman stood by the polished wooden ramp to welcome them aboard, whilst another offered them drinks**.** A third crewman led them inboard to meet their hosts. As the couple, shadowed by their secret service detail, followed their guide aboard, John once again whispered confidingly into Aeryn's ear.

"Well, at least we can be proud we've got one thing they haven't," he remarked quietly and with a snort and smirk betraying his mirth. Aeryn furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes to ask him what that might be. John nodded to indicate their guards.

"Uncle Sam's finest following us around everywhere. Something money can't buy. Better than a bunch of career criminals in black polo necks any day."

Before Aeryn could think of an appropriate response to this latest ridiculous Crichtonism, they emerged onto a large sun deck, un-crowded despite the presence of maybe a dozen other couples and about ten servants or crew. A portly, short, bald, dark-skinned and middle-aged man approached them, all smiles and outstretched arms. He was dressed in a captain's outfit which John felt to be of questionable sartorial taste despite its obvious expense. John was just grateful that the man had elected not to wear the traditional white peaked cap to complete the ensemble.

"My friends the Sun-Crichtons, I am so pleased you could make it!" the man called out with exaggerated bonhomie as he closed on the couple, who he had never in fact, met. John intervened, stepping forwards to intercept the inevitable embrace, much to the relief of both Aeryn and her Secret Service shadow.

"The pleasure is all ours… Mr. Nile?" John added the name of their host as a question, just to make sure he had made the correct identification.

Nile nodded and smiled a ten-thousand dollar smile as they disengaged. At the same time a younger looking woman with a similar skin tone eased up beside him and slipped her arm through his. "And this is my darling wife, Connie. And you must be the famous ambassador, yes? Your pictures do not do you justice!" he continued loudly, turning his attention to Aeryn. Not knowing quite what else to do, she held out her hand, expecting the traditional Earth handshake. Her eyes widened as Nile lifted one of her hands to his lips before releasing it, but she otherwise hid her surprise well. Two decades of practice had helped her to cope well with strange humans and their stranger ways. "Come, let me show you round the Amethyst and introduce you to the others!"

As Nile began the rounds of introducing them to his other guests, who all seemed to be wealthy, powerful or both, Aeryn noticed that the boat was starting to pull smoothly away from the shore. She felt a small frisson of apprehension: This water may not be frozen but it still brought back unsettling memories of the time that she had drowned. Ever since then she had never felt comfortable near large expanses of water. At least on a vessel this size she could try and ignore its frightening, destructive potential. In addition to the vessel's sheer bulk, she mused, there was plenty of company and other distractions to help to avoid thinking about what John had once called "the beast upon her shoulder": That, at least, was one strange human saying which she did not need explained to her.

An alcoholic drink or two later, Aeryn found herself seated on a couch near the yacht's splash pool, part of an impromptu gathering of the female guests. She was taking advantage of the opportunity to learn more about the conversation and concerns of her human peers and she was finding the experience most educational. The frivolity, unpleasantness about those not present and the unmitigated materialism also expressed were all somewhat of an eye-opener for her, as John might say. Her security detail lurked discretely nearby, just close enough to hear most of what was said. Aeryn was impressed that he managed to match her impassive features with a controlled mask of his own. He would have made a good Peacekeeper, Aeryn amused herself by thinking.

'~'

After a few failed attempts, Nile had finally managed to get John alone. He had eventually contrived to isolate John, the pair of them leaning over the back rail of a second, semi-open lower deck at the stern of the yacht. As John's jacket flapped in the breeze, he noticed his shoulder-holster was showing slightly. Wrinkling his face in distaste at the fact that he couldn't go anywhere these days, even on his home planet, without a gun or two, he stood upright and discretely secured the button on his jacket, before leaning back over the rail.

"Gee, I never thought I'd get you away from the crowd for some one-on-one time!" Nile remarked, the volume, if not the exuberance, of his voice turned down a few notches.

"But yet, here we are," John batted back, aware that Nile had contrived their tête-à-tête, yet sufficiently political to be non-committal, despite the mind-bleaching effects of the sun. He was just grateful that the needs of ensuring his and Aeryn's security in such a public place dictated that he had not drunk any alcohol to add to the head-fug.

"Took me a while to realize that the suit with you is sticking close to your wife, so it's only you I can really get alone: Gotta guard the ladies, huh?"

John smiled at that remark, illustrating as it did how badly Nile had misunderstood the situation. The agent was assigned to protect the Peacekeeper ambassador, who, somewhat ironically, was undoubtedly far more capable of protecting herself than was her husband or indeed more capable than the agent himself. Nevertheless, that was his job and that was what he would do.

"Perk of Aeryn's job," John shrugged, resisting the urge to discuss the matter further or make Nile's life easy by asking him what he wanted to talk about.

"Ah, she's a fine looking woman, your wife," Nile declared. John steered his emotions and demeanour down a neutral, silent and safe middle path. He decided to let the remark ride unanswered and try, in so doing, to neither give nor take offence or to encourage Nile into further personal remarks about Aeryn. When John didn't respond, Nile continued, "And you're pretty well-preserved yourself, John: You must be at least my age by now, but you look 20 years younger. You must be doing something right, hey?" As he spoke, Nile moved to faux buddy-punch John in the stomach, only to find his fist locked in a steely grip as John instinctively moved to block him.

There was a brief silence, decorated by embarrassment on both sides. John released his grip and Nile withdrew his hand.

"Some handshake you got their buddy. You work out a lot, huh?" Nile remarked uncomfortably as John eyed him with a sidelong look worthy of Reynard the fox. A sly grin spread outwards from John's eyes as he realised how much Nile was struggling with the unfamiliar and unexpected loss of his alpha male status.

"It's expected in the company I keep," John replied with deliberate vagueness.

"Anyway," Nile spoke with an emphasized gruffness that only made John smile more. "I'm sure you know there's all sorts of talk about how some people linked with the aliens' first visit don't seem to be aging as they should…"

It was a statement, not a question, and in that spirit, John did not confirm or deny it. He merely replied with a non-committal noise, almost a grunt.

"Well, something that could do that… could be worth a lot of money… with the right business partner…" Nile continued, testing the water further.

"Which, and I'm guessing here, you think might be you?" John replied, squinting at him as though blinded by the sun in order to disguise his true reactions. Nile smiled and gestured expansively in confirmation. John turned away, looking over the rail of the boat, squinting into the wake and so still hiding his eyes from Nile. John didn't know what was responsible for the delayed aging of which he himself was a beneficiary, although he could not deny that it seemed very real. Before returning to Earth the second time, he had just assumed it was something about the environment in space or the Uncharted Territories. However, when he had seen how people who had remained on Earth, family, colleagues, people they had met on their previous visit, seemed also not to have aged as expected, he had thought again. He was certain that there had probably been teams of scientists, in various countries and dominions, investigating the possible causes and that many had probably concluded that it was something to do with the translator microbes. However, no one on Earth had formally shared their findings or conclusions with John or his alien friends.

"Suppose there's something in these stories? Not that I'm saying I know anything." John paused for a beat and flicked an imaginary mote of dust off the rail and into the water. "Why wouldn't we just want to give it away, y'know, as a gift to the people of Earth and all?" John offhandedly asked the frothing wake behind the boat

"I reckon that'd be naïve." Nile snorted. "Don't you reckon our population is too big for us to cope with already? If people stopped growing old an'all, things could get real bad. Besides, everything costs…. Production, distribution… gotta cover your costs, gotta make it worthwhile for other people to cover theirs," Nile replied with a wink. "Couldn't be done, not without someone making a profit. It's all too big."

John sighed and pulled a long face. "If it's too big to do, and the planet can't feed all those extra mouths, maybe it'd be best to do nothing, then?" John suggested provocatively, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. Any pleasure and relaxation he had gained from the cruise had all but drained away in the space of just a few microts.

"Or just share it with, y'know, the right people?" Nile suggested, almost certainly coming to his point.

"M'yeah. If I find the elixir of youth, don't worry, I'll be sure to share it with the right people," John replied, choosing at that moment to turn and walk away from his host. "But right now, I got nothing. Sorry. Can't help you." It was something of a triumph that by the time he had reached Aeryn, back on the main sundeck, he had pretty much managed to wipe all trace of his simmering anger and disgust from his face.

"Hey babe, how's it going?" he asked her as he approached.

"Very interesting, John." Aeryn replied with an enigmatic smile. He leant in to kiss her and she reached up and held on to him for a moment afterwards, whispering a question in his ear.

John stood and blushed slightly, before quirking an eyebrow at his wife. "I'll tell you this evening," he laughed. There was a time and a place for everything, after all, and there were things that a gentleman didn't want to explain to his wife in front of mixed company, even if said company had raised the question in the first place.

'~'

NB: Those who are old enough and wish to know what Aeryn asked John might like to read my M-rated filler fic, 'Fifty Shades Of Black, White and Red.'


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

'~'

"Commander Crichton," the slick talk show host intoned, turning to face John.

A late-night televised sofa-chat, in the company of an up and coming politician and some author that John had never heard of who was promoting her latest book, wasn't at the top of John's list of things he enjoyed doing. However Louisa Bach had assured him and Aeryn that the show boasted excellent ratings and that his appearing on it would be wonderful PR for the embassy.

"Just Doctor. Or John," Crichton replied gently with a disarming grin. "Commander was a long time ago." A life time ago, in fact. Someone else's life, it mostly seemed to him nowadays.

"What was it really like out there, all those years in deep space? What did you miss? How did you cope?" Melissa Scott, the immaculately coiffed and turned out anchor woman continued, hoping against hope to elicit something as memorable as his now famous confession to Bobby on the stairs of his father's home.

"It really wasn't that bad," John smiled back, put at ease by the fact that Scott had opened with a pretty much pre-agreed exchange and not with something aimed at giving her the newsworthy response that he knew that she was eager for. "I had family, friends…"

"But surely there were things you missed?" she tried again, treading the fine line between agreed questions and outright provocation.

"Sure." John smiled again, reassured at how well things were going, determined not to come over the traumatized astronaut this time around. "But you get used to life without beer and ice cream," he joked. The studio audience laughed along with him and Scott. Excellent, John thought. Dynamite PR.

"But you didn't really miss your old friends, did you?" a voice put in from the other sofa. It was the author, a woman called Charlene Valley, if John recalled correctly. Louisa had mentioned to him that she was a writer of trashy novels about the imagined sexual dalliances and loose morals of rich city workers and that she had a new book out that she wanted to promote. John stared at her, willing her to shut up, at least until he could think of some way to shut down her line of questioning. "The people you left behind on Earth?"

"I don't think the Commander..." Scott began, uneasy now that she was no longer in full control. Senator Forest, the third guest, looked on silently, calculating eyes switching between the three people he shared the stage with as he began to assess which way this might go and how he might use it best to promote his own interests.

"Like the Knoxes?" Valley persisted, cutting across Scott. John stiffened. Not only had Valley brought up painful and sad memories, she clearly had an agenda that involved making trouble for John and the Sebacean embassy.

"Doug and Laura Knox were two of my closest friends on Earth. Their deaths were a tragedy…" John began through gritted teeth. This was not part of the plan. He cast a glance at Scott, his glowering eyes demanding of her that she head off any similar questions from the publicity-hungry author.

"Yet you didn't even stay for their funeral?" Valley challenged, her voice strident, her face a smug pout. Scott was looking concerned, trying to find a way to defuse the situation: She prided herself that her show was at the opposite end of the sophistication spectrum to those daytime TV shows which positively encouraged their guests to fight.

Senator Forest remained silent and continued to watch the unfolding drama, silent and calculating.

"I had to leave to protect the Earth from the same threat that killed them," John gritted out.

"Which was?" Valley continued, smiling as she ignored a series of raised, warning finger gestures to cut it out from Scott, who was currently off camera.

"Dealt with…"

"Ms. Valley, I'd really like…" Scott tried, and failed to interrupt and steer the conversation into less choppy waters.

"Really? Because there have been reports that one of the threats that you were most concerned about back then was the Peacekeepers. But these days _they_ seem to be your new best friends." She added with a supercilious smile, which only grew as she took in how angry she had made John. John's hand gripped the arm rest of the sofa as he struggled to resist the urge to assault her. He was pretty sure that that wouldn't be good PR either for him or the embassy.

"There was a change in their leadership," John gritted out.

"If I may observe," Senator Forest interrupted, seeming to have now made a decision as to which way the studio audience reactions were going. "I don't think it is a change in the Peacekeeper leadership which Ms. Valley is concerned with."

"Oh yeah?" John replied, turning to face his new tormentor, who was sat right beside him.

"The senator is right," Valley butted back in, unwittingly saving Senator Forest from having metaphorical blood on his own hands, or literal blood on his nose. "It's your loyalty to your own people that concerns me AND the audience!" She turned and lifted her hands to the audience. Scattered catcalls and shouts of approval greeted her gesture. She nodded and grinned victoriously.

John sat and fumed as the sound of the audience died down, considering his options. If he stood and stormed off stage, like he felt inclined to do, that would look even worse. There was nothing to be done but to sit and bear it, and maybe get in a few shots of his own as the show went on.

"Ms. Valley," Scott tried, in exasperation, to steer the conversation onto safer ground. "Maybe you'd like to talk about your latest book…"

'~'

"I saw you on the Tonight show this week," Jack remarked casually over breakfast on Saturday morning. His concern was evident in his tone and in the sympathetic look he shot towards John and Aeryn across the waffles and fruit juice. He had come up to visit for the week, arriving late on the Friday night. Too late for serious conversations. He was spending so much time at the embassy that John was starting to wonder why his father didn't just go the whole hog and ask to move in permanently.

The children carried on eating, although Aeryn and John both paused. Aeryn's brow furrowed and she cocked her head whilst thinking of how to reply to that. John beat her to it.

"Just some fekk…. body," he corrected himself, seeing the children present and Jack's disapproving look. "Out to make a noise, out to sell their book at someone else's expense. I thought things got better as the show went on."

"There's plenty out there that think worse than that, though son. Plenty as say worse too." Jack shuffled his breakfast around his plate: He didn't seem very hungry.

"I know, dad, but what can we do?" John leaned over and helped himself to a refill from the coffee jug. "Aeryn?" he offered it to her, as usual.

"No, thank you." She shook her head, as usual.

"I dunno son. It just worries me, that's all. Worries me for you and the kids," Jack nodded towards Aeryn, who frowned, still unable to comprehend the strange, human thought processes that seemed more intent on the safety of females than males.

"Anyhow, Louisa's has got a plan. Glossy spreads in magazines showing our taste in furniture. Paparazzi shots of Aeryn out buying baby clothes, all that sort of dr…. stuff. She's even got Aeryn down to do a fashion shoot for Mode magazine, would you believe?" Aeryn harrumphed her displeasure at that idea and muttered under her breath as she stabbed viciously at her breakfast. "And between our people and good old Uncle Sam's finest we've got the actual security tied up."

"Well, let me know, son…. If there's anything I can do?"

"Trust me. Everything's going to be OK." John grinned and winked before taking a big gulp from his coffee. He just wished that he felt as optimistic as he sounded, after all, things in their lives had a nasty habit of going horribly and spectacularly wrong.

'~'

"Ambassador Sun, Commander Crichton," the familiar, unusually athletic-looking but otherwise non-descript middle aged man in front of them said in greeting. "Thank you for coming. Please, take a seat."

He motioned to a couple of angular black couches, separated by a low table, which took up about a third of his light, airy office. He clearly wanted to keep this visit informal rather than talk with his visitors from either side of the large, busy desk which occupied the other side of his office.

"So what's all this about?" John asked rather aggressively as he made his way towards one of the suggested couches. He had been somewhat surprised when the head of the local Secret Service detail assigned to them had asked the couple if they could spare an hour to come in to his office in New York. They had only met him once, and he had given the impression of a man who let his field agents do their job without micromanagement.

"John…" Aeryn warned him gently. "We're here to hear what Agent Shelley has to say."

Shelley nodded appreciatively at her and smiled before waving at the couch sited opposite the one he was now standing in front of. "I realize that I was a little cryptic when I asked to see you. Hopefully the reason for that will become clear. Coffee?" He asked as he sat. Aeryn shook her head once. "Lungching tea?" he asked Aeryn, earning an appreciative smile and curt, affirmative nod from her. The elaborate Chinese green tea reminded her of infusions back home.

"Please," John confirmed his own preference as Agent Shelley first poured Aeryn her tea then moved on to the coffee.

"Latte, no sugar," Shelley smiled at John, before passing it over. John frowned at him suspiciously. Although he knew that Shelley and his cohorts were privy to almost every aspect of his family's life, it still made him uneasy that spooks might know so many details about them. All the way down to Aeryn's choice of hot beverage. Maybe more. Most likely much more.

"I'm guessing that you are well aware that you and your people are the subject of plenty of tittle-tattle from the usual sort of nut-jobs and conspiracy theorists?" Shelley asked Aeryn, taking a sip of his own coffee and getting down to business. It wasn't really a question and they all knew it. There was no shortage of faceless people on the internet who were convinced that Sebaceans were really lizard-people in disguise. Aeryn had been somewhat perplexed and more than a little affronted when she had discovered that there were humans who seemed to think she was a Scarran. Nor was there a shortage of clerics and others of a fervently religious persuasion who seemed convinced that Aeryn was either the devil incarnate or one of his faithful servants. The policy of both the mission and their allies was to ignore all such accusations with the contempt they deserved. Argue with a fool and people might mistake you for one, too, as John had put it a monen or two previously.

John and Aeryn both indicated that they were indeed familiar with such things. Aeryn sighed wearily. John squeezed her hand in support.

"Well, recently we've picked up on a couple of more disturbing stories," Shelley continued. "Cookie?" John leaned over and helped himself. Aeryn ignored the offer.

"Disturbing in what way?" Aeryn asked with a frown. She really wasn't used to the diversity of ways that humans' minds worked and she was at a loss to understand how any new lies and gossip could be so different as to merit asking to see her and John in private like this.

"Disturbing in that they are very specific, are consistent with what is known about you both and thus suggest the possibility that there may be a security leak, maybe even amongst your own people." Shelley explained as gently as possible.

"That is ridiculous. None of my people would betray us!" Aeryn protested, almost slamming her cup down on the low table. John laid a hand, half-comforting, half-restraining, on her arm and fixed Shelley with a steely, interrogative gaze.

"What sort of rumours are we talking about here?" John demanded.

"Well, for instance, there is a story circulating," Shelley began, shuffling a sheaf of papers and pulling out a page before passing it across to Aeryn. "That Ambassador Sun conspired with yourself and a group of outlaws to destroy the Peacekeeper ship where she had spent most of her life, putting tens of thousands of lives at risk and leading to hundreds of deaths. Many of the alleged dead known personally to you." He nodded to Aeryn as he finished. Aeryn scowled and passed the paper across to John before fixing Shelley with a steel-blue, blank stare.

Shelley did not blanch, but rather pulled out another paper, pushing it across the table towards them. "Then there is another unflattering story circulating concerning yourself, Mr. Crichton, and the use of some sort of doomsday weapon allegedly used to destroy an inhabited planet and blackmail your enemies into doing what you wanted. "

"What is your point?" John snapped, almost snarling. He wasn't at all sure where Shelley was going with all of this, what the agent's agenda might be, and his protective side was starting to emerge. If the man was working on behalf of the US government to obtain leverage over the embassy, then that was a really serious breach of trust.

"My point," Shelley remained calm. "As I said at the start, is that these stories look sufficiently credible…"

"Isn't that a matter of opinion? And does it matter if they are credible?" John did snarl this time.

Shelley shrugged, unruffled. "Only in as much as that, if they are true, then it supports my theory that there might be a security leak. Could be one of your people, could be one of my people. Could be someone else."

"That makes sense," Aeryn finally spoke up. "Which means?" She, too, was suspicious that Shelley was sounding out some sort of framework for blackmailing her and her people. Everything about her hated such games and manipulation, but she had to be sure that that was his true agenda before making any decisions.

"What I would like is your permission and cooperation in investigating this."

"Is that….. it?" John asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely," Shelley confirmed. "I am responsible for your safety. If there is a leak, if someone's loyalty is compromised, then so is your security." He explained. He smiled. "Let me assure you, I have no interest in these stories beyond that. Not in my remit." He smiled again, broadly this time and lifted the plate of cookies, holding them out towards John.

John took another one, bit on it, and then nearly spat it out as Shelley remarked. "I'm sure there's other spooks to deal with that sort of thing."

'~'

The following Monday morning saw everything back to business-as-usual for the ambassador and her family. Aeryn had a goodwill visit scheduled to one of the nearby Ivy League universities, where, amongst other things, she would be opening a new laboratory building. John had time to drop the kids off at school (ignoring that a secret service detail would be going with them anyway) and then to do a couple of hours of admin work before lunch. Then he had another hour scheduled to allow his lunch to settle before going for a run around the compound. He was looking forward to his run: He wasn't getting any younger and he'd decided he really needed to work off the excesses of the weekend before they settled around his waistline to stay.

John returned from his afternoon run around the grounds of the mansion to find the office in uproar. Everyone, human or Sebacean, on the small office staff seemed to be frantically fielding phone calls between rushing around in a state of some agitation. Of Aeryn there was no sign. Although he was starting to sweat profusely, now he was inside and his body cooling off from the exercise, Louisa Bach, their human Public Relations head honcho caught his attention. She leant out the door of her office, phone still pressed to her ear, and waved him over to her whilst she muttered the odd "Hmm," and "Yeah," into the device.

"Where's Aeryn?" John asked the instant Louisa finished her call, which also happened to be the instant he arrived in her office doorway. The question was superfluous almost as soon as he asked it, really, because Aeryn was sitting on a large, black leather chair in Louisa's office, his wife's leather clothes helping her blend in like a chameleon. She seemed to have on her best Peacekeeper mask, but that could not disguise that her complexion seemed unusually pale, slightly blotchy even, and her eyes were bloodshot. Something very upsetting had clearly happened. John wondered what that might have been as Louisa pushed the office door shut behind them.

"We have something of a situation," Louisa stated, moving back behind her desk, even as Aeryn stood. John moved to hug her, but she held up a hand to ward him off.

"What? Huh?" John asked, running through some of his worst fears in his mind. It couldn't be that something had happened to the kids: there were no Earth law-enforcement people present at the mansion, well, no more than the usual. Similarly, if anything had happened to any of their people, John would have expected something different to the scene at the embassy. Aeryn was here, safe and sound, if clearly upset, and maybe back a little early from her lunch appointment at some function nearby.

"Best if you just watch this…" Louisa explained, tapping some buttons on her computer and turning the monitor, so John and Aeryn could both see it.

The screen showed a feed from what appeared to be a TV news channel, now posted on some sort of video sharing website. It showed Aeryn standing in front of some shiny new building, surrounded by various humans. John remembered that Aeryn had been off to open a new laboratory, devoted to space science, at a nearby university that day.

The camera zoomed in on Aeryn and a black, furry microphone was pushed into shot from somewhere.

"Ambassador Sun?" A strident female voice demanded. The camera showed Aeryn, presumably looking towards her questioner and smiling encouragingly. John felt Aeryn slip her hand into his, gripping firmly. The questioner on screen continued. "Ambassador! Is it true that you once served as an assassin in a renegade Peacekeeper unit devoted to political terrorism?" Almost immediately a scuffle started, even as Aeryn's face registered her shock. The questioner's voice sped up, determined to get all of her accusations in before events overtook her. "Can you comment to the stories that you came to power in a military coup and that your chief patron was killed when his ship was destroyed shortly afterwards?"

It was all over so fast that the Aeryn on screen barely had time to register her shocked surprise before Louisa and a large male, presumably some sort of security, interposed themselves between her and her questioner.

"The policy of the Peacekeeper embassy is not to comment on any such scurrilous and unsubstantiated stories," stated Louisa on the recording, flatly and imperiously, glaring down the accuser. In the background a clearly distressed Aeryn was being eased out of shot by a knot of minders.

"Sonofabitch!" John spat venomously even as he squeezed Aeryn's hand back more forcefully. Then he freed his hand from hers, but only so he could pull her close to him in a side-to side hug. She moved her own hand to cover his in its new position.

"We've been putting together a press-release to help our people field the media on this one," Louisa informed John, whilst Aeryn remained silent. "I'll need you to approve it, if you could…."

'~'

The small knot of Heathers gathered round their ringleader in the refectory that lunchtime, all trying to get a clear view of the ultra-fashionable mobile phone which one of them was holding in her expensively manicured hand. Two of the girls kept gasping in exaggerated disbelief, another smirked triumphantly, and all four illustrated their inner joy with exaggerated and dramatic fidgety body language.

At that moment Livvy walked past, a couple of tables away. The girls fell almost silent, staring at her and whispering as she passed, before finally succumbing and shrieking in pleasure once her back was to them. Livvy spared them the briefest glower over her shoulder, but refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging them more than that.

"We have GOT to tell everyone about this!" Livvy heard one of the Heathers exclaim excitedly as she reached the door. She was pretty certain she didn't want to hear whatever was coming next. She pushed on through the door with her elbow as the group burst into loud laughter behind her.

Livvy stepped outside, wondering who she was going to sit with today. Although she had made friends, she was still not really in a clique that she could call her own. She was a little jealous of Dee, who seemed to have had no trouble getting in with all the right crowds in his age group, especially bolstered by his athletic prowess. Although Livvy was similarly gifted, relative to her human counterparts, thanks in no small part to her mother's genes, it seemed that the human school culture did not value such talents in a female in the same way they did in a male adolescent. Frelling stupid humans, Livvy sulked inwardly.

In front of her, through the doors, was a large group who Livvy already recognized as the school rebels, marked out by their apparent rejection of either high fashion or sports field prowess and their embrace of interests such as skating, scruffy clothes and loud music. She cast her eyes around her but could see no one else that she recognized in the cloistered quadrant.

"Hey, you're Livvy Sun, aren't you?" one of the girls in the group called across to her. Livvy nodded, uncertain where this was going. There were a lot of them, way too many for her to take on, even with the skills she'd learnt from her mother and the other ex-PKs aboard Moya. "You mom's on TV. C'mon have a look," the girl laughed, calling her over.

"Rat, show it again," the girl said, addressing a scrawny looking boy, seated at the centre of the group, who had a laptop open on the rough wooden table. The circle parted allowing Livvy entrance. The laptop was covered in stickers. What was that all about, Livvy wondered?

The boy called Rat pressed a button on the computer and a short video clip played.

"Man, is your mom cool or what?" Rat bit his lip, seeing the look of shock and embarrassment on Livvy's face, an amplified version of that which Livvy had seen on her mother as the reporter's question about assassination squads hit home. "No offence…" he quickly added, trying to reassure her.

"She could have hit him or shot him or something. You know…?" The girl with Rat explained, laughing nervously, then shut up abruptly when she realised that her line of words was hardly helping matters.

"Yeah, like…." One of the other boys reached across and clicked on the thumbnail for another video. From the look of the clip, Livvy reckoned that it dated from her parent's first visit to Earth, cycles before. Her mother was in loose, black sweat pants and a short, tight black top which showed way too much of her mother's skin for Livvy's taste. A trio of serious-looking male opponents were gathered around her in white pyjamas. Their physiques and bearing all reminded Liv of the sort of men who were active Peacekeeper soldiers. The trio of men closed in, moving to attack her mother, all at once and from different angles. There was a flurry of limbs… and the three men in white lay scattered around Aeryn, who was bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, waiting for any of them to get back up.

"Dude, that's AWESOME," one of the boys remarked as the clip finished after only a few microts.

"Only thing I've ever seen my mom lay into like that was a chocolate cake," one of the girls scoffed approvingly, slapping Liv on the shoulder in a comradely manner.

"Can you do that Kung Fu stuff? I heard you can!" another voice said excitedly. Livvy spluttered, not knowing what to say. She nodded slightly.

"Cool." said one girl.

"You wanna sit?" asked another, pulling an empty chair into the middle of the group and motioning for Livvy to sit and join them.

'~'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Over the following fortnight Louisa and her team did an excellent job of countering the new rumours about Aeryn and the Peacekeepers whilst ensuring that John, and most especially Aeryn, were kept away from situations where live journalists might get the chance to repeat the accusations. Slowly but surely interest subsided until the story merged with all the other lurid and baseless speculations about the aliens doing the rounds.

"But the question remains," John snapped, as he once again sat with Aeryn in Shelley's New York office, "How did they get hold of that story?"

"We're working on a couple of leads," Shelley replied, half-evasive as his people had found out nothing solid, half-reassuring because he wanted to give the impression, no matter how true or untrue, that they were just about to do so.

"I just can't believe one of our own people…." Aeryn's voice trailed off. "Why would they…?"

"There're lots of reasons these things happen," Shelley shrugged. "Once we find out whodunnit then the whys and wherefores'll follow." He concluded.

John arched an eyebrow. Shelley was right of course. The most important thing was to find out the who, not the why.

"Now, about this visit to Mr. and Mrs. Faber next week," Shelley remarked, changing the subject.

"Umm, yeah, what about it?" John asked.

"I see you've asked for your security detail to be withdrawn for the night. Are you sure that's wise?"

'~'

Everything about organising their dinner with Susan and her second husband, Ray Faber, had been complicated. For reasons that John didn't seem to want to explain to Aeryn beyond sharing a pained grimace with her, inviting them to the Peacekeeper mansion hadn't been well received. On the other hand, what with Aeryn and John's simmering celebrity status, meeting somewhere public, like a restaurant, was not exactly ideal either if they wanted an intimate family gathering. John seemed slightly irritated that they had ended up settling on Susan's home, which was located in one of the plusher districts of the nearby city. For her part, Aeryn didn't really mind, as it gave her the opportunity to spend some time away from the spotlight of being the 'Alien Ambassador to Earth'. It also gave her the opportunity to go for a long drive in the car she had bought but so far had had little chance to drive.

As part of the slow normalisation of their presence on Earth, John had eventually managed to negotiate a night out without the constant close company of the secret service. John had demanded to know of Shelley whether other ambassadors were so closely accompanied everywhere they went. Shelley had had to concede that indeed they were not. It had eventually been agreed that a security team would ensure Susan's home was safe whilst another would escort the ambassador at a discrete distance, but that they would otherwise remain out of sight throughout what was, after all, a private occasion.

When the car's satnav informed her that they had arrived at their destination, Aeryn pulled into the drive of what she recognized to be quite a large house by human standards, albeit nowhere near as impressive as that of the Peacekeeper ambassador. John got out even before Aeryn had switched off the engine, hurrying round to the driver's door to offer her assistance in exiting the vehicle. Normally, Aeryn would have been affronted, but she had to concede that the low profile of the car made his help quite useful this time. As she emerged from the car onto the driveway the house's main door opened and a woman, somewhat more ostentatiously dressed than Aeryn in a dark, impractical looking evening dress, appeared through it. Aeryn had met Susan briefly before, even on their latest trip to Earth, but it still took her a few microts to recognize John's eldest sister, so elaborate was the transformation from what Aeryn took to be her normal appearance.

"John!" Susan gushed. John deliberately put his arm around Aeryn's waist as they walked the short distance towards the door. It did not escape Aeryn that he was showing his sister that they were unequivocally a couple. Aeryn had always suspected that Susan disapproved of the alien visitors, judging by the limited time she contrived to spend with John and his companions both two decades ago and this time around. "How was the drive over?" Susan added, although she did so in a way which made it clearto Aeryn,unschooled as she was in Earth small-talk, that it was not a genuine enquiry.

"Fine," John grinned convivially. "Aeryn's been dying for a chance to try out her new toy, haven't you?" John added, nodding to indicate the car. Aeryn beamed, broadcasting her joy at the chance to get back behind the controls of something sleek and fast.

"It's a bit gauche, isn't it?" Susan scolded John playfully, looking down her nose at the Audi. "Even for you." She winked at John in an attempt to take the sting out of the remark.

"Oh you know me," John replied, determined not to take any offence at the subtext of Susan's remarks, and hoping that Aeryn's English wasn't up to catching the possibilities.

"Yes. You like your rides fast and exotic," Aeryn interjected, exaggerating her accent and lacing her arm proprietarily through Johns. She fixed Susan with a gaze that would have been unfathomable if not for her one, slightly arched eyebrow, causing John's sister to blanche, cough and then avert her eyes.

"Mmm, shall we go inside?" John suggested through a well-suppressed smirk. "I'm dying for a coffee." As Susan nodded and turned he laced his fingers with Aeryn's, giving her hand a slight squeeze.

"You're a bad, bad jirl," he whispered in her ear in Sebacean, drawing a snort of superiority from her in reply.

Soon they found themselves inside the house, led into the sort of lounge that looked as though it might double as a set for an unrealistically glamorous TV soap opera. Susan's current husband, Ray, was already waiting there for them, with a dazzling smile and a studied, well-practiced greeting.

"Aeryn, so glad to meet you at last. I've heard so much about you," Ray beamed, advancing on her for an embrace which caught Aeryn completely off guard. However, she was growing used to the unusual and intimate greetings employed by some humans and so she soon recovered and returned the embrace. After enduring what was, to her, an awkward couple of microts, Ray released her and stepped away. "Hey, has everyone in this family found the secret of eternal youth?" he half-joked, half-enquired. "Care to share?" he tried one last time, nudging John and winking at Aeryn with exaggerated emphasis before trying to ease the tension with a laugh.

"Healthy living and the love of a good woman," John burbled in faux light-hearted explanation, unwilling to be drawn more on the subject.

The delayed aging enjoyed by those who had taken translator microbes remained a well-kept secret on Earth. However, there was growing speculation in the press and on the internet as to how certain people who had come into contact with the aliens remained looking so young, especially now, following the return of Moya. Susan had been a recipient of microbes during Moya's first visit, and looked far younger than her true age of 53, but she had not been with Ray back then. Like John, there was no way Aeryn was going to discuss the matter with anyone she didn't have to, much less anyone she didn't absolutely trust.

A female servant, dressed in a black and white uniform to accentuate her servitor status, lurked in the shadows holding a tray laden with glasses of drinks. Susan summoned her with a click of her fingers, offering everyone a drink from the tray, but otherwise ignoring the woman. Aeryn couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable on the servant's behalf. However, that was soon forgotten as John spoke up.

"Umm, sorry sis. Can't drink. Aeryn's driving and I've got a note from my doctor." He shrugged and gave what he hoped was a disarming grin.

"Oh, nothing serious, I hope?" Susan gushed, laying a sympathetic hand on John's elbow and shooting a brief, suspicious and accusing glance at Aeryn, as though for 'serious' she might really have meant 'alien.'

"Nah, just a dose of antibiotics," John lied. How could he tell his sister that the true reason was that he wanted, needed, to remain alert and with unimpaired faculties all evening? "You got any fruit juices?" he added, half-directing his question now towards the maid.

"So, Aeryn, how are you finding Earth?" Susan asked, turning her attention to Aeryn now that John was lowering himself out of the conversation by engaging with the hired help. "Apart from what you're wearing, which I must say is just divine."

"Thank you," Aeryn responded, uncertain as to whether Susan was being sarcastic or not. Unlike John's sister, with her elaborate evening dress and expensive jewellery, Aeryn was much less ostentatiously dressed in an expensive, smart but understated, trouser suit. The only jewellery she wore was her ring.

"Hmm, John's let you buy some decent clothes at last - all that black leather must be so tiresome!" Susan finished, laughing for some reason inexplicable to Aeryn.

Ray joined in the laughter. "Whatever you do, don't let her loose downtown with your credit card, hey?" he advised John with a nudge and a wink. "Don't want to go spoiling her, do you?"

"Ignore him, he's incorrigible: He doesn't appreciate the value of good shoes," Susan confided to Aeryn.

Aeryn sighed resignedly. This was John's family - human social convention seemed to require her to smile and bear it, no matter how banal or annoying. It was going to be a long night, she thought.

'~'

Aeryn drove homewards along the darkened road, revelling in the illusion of speed which driving her new car at night gave her. It was also one of the first times since they had landed that she had managed to leave the compound without a Secret Service detail as a permanent shadow, and that knowledge gave her a small frisson of pleasure from the sense of freedom, too.

John was beside her, stretched out in the passenger seat. He was tired by the late hour, a situation not helped by his body metabolising too much rich food. He took the opportunity to mull over how their dinner had gone with Susan and Ray, happy for once that his wife would rather drive than be a passenger.

'~'

Although the evening hadn't been what Aeryn would regard as a success, neither had it been an obvious disaster. As they were driving away John had confirmed her impression that no obvious offence had been taken on either side. She had always had the feeling that Susan didn't really approve of her that much. But then, she also got the impression that she held some long-standing grudge against John, too, so Aeryn didn't feel that aggrieved on her own account. Earlier that day, when they had been getting dressed to go out, John had explained to Aeryn that when you were family sometimes you just had to get on and make the best of things, whether there were things in the past that you disagreed about or not. That rather took Aeryn aback; memories of Xhalax in that hotel room surfaced painfully. Then he had come out with some of his crazy, incomprehensible human sayings and Aeryn had just nodded politely for a while.

Aeryn had no further time to mull on the evening, or the chronic tension between John and Susan, though, because a single headlight was coming up fast behind them. Someone was clearly breaking the ridiculously low local speed limit for ground transports, she mused. She took a firm grip of the steering wheel and made a microt-quick check of all her other controls, in order to be prepared lest the approaching vehicle constitute a threat. Microts later a motorbike growled past them, black and sleek, like its rider. It was going about half as fast again as they were, and was almost immediately lost from sight as the road in front twisted round. Aeryn smiled, imagining herself in the rider's place. She was lost in her reverie for a microt before recognition overwhelmed her.

"John!" she hissed.

"What? Err!" John gabbled beside her, his mind coming back from wherever it had drifted off to. His hand, swiftly and without conscious thought, moved to curl around the pistol nestling beneath his jacket.

"I think that's my motorbike!" The sporty, black bike had been one of the first things she had bought when they had come down to Earth, she had so loved the one she had borrowed on their journey North to rescue the children from Fairfax. She had barely had a chance to ride it, though. Whenever she went out anywhere by ground transportation, either the Secret Service insisted that it was not safe or, like tonight, John insisted that it was not suitable. For herself, she would gladly have gone to dinner tonight in her Peacekeeper leathers. However, John had been adamant that she had to dress like an Earth woman would do when going out to dinner with an awkward relative in order to avoid further reinforcing his sister's negative prejudices.

Without waiting for John to respond further, she gunned the engine of the powerful sportscar. A faint, high pitched whine from the turbocharger accompanied a physically noticeable surge in their speed as Aeryn began trying to close the gap on the motorbike. John looked nervously across at the speedometer and then squinted out into the darkness ahead.

"Err, honey, maybe you should slow down?"

Aeryn grunted something indecipherable as she deftly flicked the car around an S-bend and past an entry slip. As they emerged onto a straighter stretch of road the twinkle of the motorbike's tail lights appeared briefly and then was lost amongst the more extensive lighting of a set of tollbooths up ahead.

"Frell. I'd forgotten about the tolls," Aeryn grunted, checking the car's speed as they drew closer. John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There was no sign of the bike, but as Aeryn committed to the left-hand booth lane, a highway patrol cruiser appeared in front of them.

"You're gonna have to stop, hon!" John blurted out unnecessarily: Aeryn had of course reacted instantly and was already bringing their car to a halt.

'~'

The highway patrolman approached the sleek, imported sportscar, taking in the silver and red paintjob and the ticking, purring engine. He snorted dismissively as he came alongside the driver's door. The window glided down, revealing the black and red interior. The colours made it look like one of them there Peacekeeper spacecraft thingamajigs. He began to crouch, to get a better view of the pretty young woman driving, her black hair and dark outfit partly matching the interior.

"License please, Ma'am," he began. "My colleague clocked you doing 95 past the Shelbyville ramp – d'ya think you're Aeryn Sun or something?" he snorted.

"Actually, Officer, I believe that _is_ what it says on my license," She smiled sweetly back at him, as she passed her license across from her male passenger. The patrolman did a double take at the license and the driver, flicking his eyes back and forth a few times until he finally believed the evidence before him.

"Umm, Ma'am," he said, his brain floundering at not only actually meeting a real live alien, but the famous Aeryn Sun at that. Finally, he managed to re-engage his brain. After checking the license one last time he began a stumbling ticking off. He knew full well that there was little practical he could do. She would have diplomatic immunity, after all, but he could still make her think about the wisdom of what she had done. "Um, driving that fast is, umm, against the law ma'am, and is, umm, very dangerous. You wouldn't want, umm, to be hurt, now would you? Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you to assist in filling out the paperwork…"

'~'

John leaned across a fidgety Aeryn, who was itching to be gone and resume the pursuit.

"Of course, Officer, we'd be pleased to assist you. And Aeryn's mighty sorry for having driven too fast, aren't you babe?"

"Hmm," Aeryn twitched slightly. "Very sorry," she conceded.

As the officer returned to his car to collect something, Aeryn's patience cracked. "We'll have lost the bike by now."

"Well, if you hadn't been caught speeding…"

"Do you think I had something to do with this?" she snarked angrily back at him, struggling to express herself clearly in English owing to her frustration. "That I wanted to be caught?"

"No, babe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply…." John rubbed her knee to try to comfort her. "The man's only doing his job. We can find out later if anyone took the bike out tonight."

"Fine, John," she hissed, grudgingly accepting the situation and already planning to investigate any comings and goings from the mansion once they got home.

"Look, he's coming back. Play nice, huh?"

"When am I anything other than nice?" she pouted, patting his hand on her knee in an attempt to lighten the mood.

'~'

As it transpired, there was no big mystery about the motorbike: the security at the main gate instantly confirmed that Lieutenant Meila Pittach had been quite open about taking it out for about six hours that evening, returning about half an arn before John and Aeryn. A check of the logs confirmed it was not the first time she had done so. When John and Aeryn entered the main house they soon bumped into Pittach in the kitchen, which was otherwise deserted at that time of night. The young officer was sitting at a breakfast counter, dressed in human clothes and munching on a thick, tuna salad sandwich, giving Aeryn a sudden flashback to her own first time on Earth, cycles before.

"John, can you let us have a word in private, please?" Aeryn asked. John looked at his wife quizzically for a microt or two, then nodded, picked up his glass of milk and left.

"That looks nice," Aeryn remarked, setting down a piece of fruit on the counter and perching herself on a stool opposite Pittach.

Meila nodded and grinned broadly. She swallowed hard and nodded at her sandwich. "One thing you can say about this planet, the food is good."

"So, what have you been doing this late to build up such an appetite?" Aeryn asked casually. "You've been off duty, today, haven't you?"

Pittach seemed to consider the question for a moment, as though weighing up the possible answers, how much to say, how truthful to be.

"I… umm… took out the motorbike, ma'am. All afternoon. I just got back, in fact."

Aeryn arched an eyebrow, inviting more. Pittach seemed once again to weigh up how much, or what to say.

"Sometimes I miss flying Prowlers." Meila answered wistfully. Aeryn nodded and couldn't help but smile. That at least she understood, and she could also see why the younger woman might see the motorbike as a substitute.

"It's dangerous…." Aeryn faltered, realising that that description could apply to all sorts of things: flying Prowlers; riding motorbikes; being here on Earth. She picked up her apple and rolled it from one hand to the other.

"I know, but what's the point in having it if we don't use it?"

"Hmm." Aeryn considered the question for a moment. It was a valid point, and could be extrapolated so easily to so many other things. "I know it probably takes away from some of the pleasure, but next time, remember to check the threat level with the human Secret Service people and to file a route plan with the officer of the watch." Aeryn insisted, before biting down on her fruit. She herself had been out that evening without her human minders, so she was hardly in a strong position to insist on more precautions. But it would be a while yet before it would be safe enough on Earth for them to just go about their business without any security measures. She didn't want a young woman like Pittach, who had seen so little of humans or other planet-bound people, to learn that lesson the hard way. "I know we went out on our own this evening, but at least the security people knew where we were going, had checked it out and were close to hand if we needed them," she added.

Pittach smiled wanly and nodded, accepting the orders of her superior officer without argument. Aeryn found herself unexpectedly saddened that such a response was still so often the Peacekeeper way, cycles after the fall of the old order.

"So, tell me about the bike," Aeryn added more lightly, trying to connect with the young woman inside the Peacekeeper. She bit on her fruit again. "How fast did you get it up to?" She asked through a mouthful of apple.

'~'

As the security briefing droned on, President Caine scanned the one page intelligence reports on Ambassador Sun and the former IASA Commander Crichton one further time, in case he had missed anything on first reading. The couple had clearly been busy since their first visit to Earth, years before.

The intelligence the spooks had compiled indicated that they were now both highly respected figures out there, amongst the alien worlds. It was said that Crichton had stopped a major war between the two super powers, whilst, a year or so later, Sun had been thrust into a position of leadership amongst her own people. Against the odds she had succeeded in drawing together the bickering forces of several species to fight under a common banner against some external foe. The intelligence community didn't think that either were natural diplomats or politicians, or, interestingly, that either of them aspired to be. Sun had been offered the post of Earth ambassador because of the high regard in which she was held by her people and because, for now, she was the only Peacekeeper with any significant understanding of Earth or humans. Caine didn't need an intelligence report to read between the lines and see that the appointment of someone other than a professional diplomat also spoke of the low importance with which Earth was regarded. It never crossed his mind to think that the Peacekeepers simply did not regard diplomacy as an activity requiring a separate profession and skill set to military command. Uncle Sam's finest had concluded that Sun and Crichton had accepted the position on Earth purely for personal reasons, not to fulfil any wider agenda. There was a note to the effect that although Crichton's primary loyalties no longer seemed to lie with his country of birth, the importance family and friends still held for him did make for a strong secondary loyalty to his native land and provided some potential leverage.

As to the various rumours that were flying around about them, the spooks thought that there might be an element of truth in some of them, but exactly what was true and what the source of any of the stories might be, if they were true, was as yet unresolved, or undisclosed. It wasn't as though the administration had any legitimate way of corroborating the stories, and the embassy itself was remaining tight-lipped. His own spooks were, if anything even more tight-lipped. If they knew anything off the record, they weren't saying.

Overall, the report contained nothing new nor anything terribly exciting. But that, in and of itself, was interesting.

"So," Caine remarked, looking up to address his companions. "Your guys on the inside… what do they reckon? What about the big question, the fountain o' youth?"

"We reckon they're levelling with us: They're not entirely sure about the nature of this slow-down in the aging process, either," one grey suit answered.

"When we had someone sound Crichton out about selling out on the technology to a third party, he clammed right up," added a second suit, this one made from slightly darker fabric. "There was a moment when we thought he was actually going to take a swing at the guy." The man almost snorted in thinly-veiled amusement.

"So where does that leave us?" Caine asked, tapping his pen irritably on his jotter. If these people had nothing to tell him, he had other things to do.

The second suit sighed. "Frankly, sir, much though it pains me to say it, I think we should be straight with them." The first suit raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing. Playing things straight went against all of his professional instincts.

"I have to agree," put in a third suit, who had until now remained silent. "It's not in their interests either to hold out on us, to sell us out or to get too deeply involved in what we do with the technology."

"Agreed," Caine nodded. "Sort out a plan, then get back to me," he concluded, waving his hand in dismissal as he turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Most of those present stood and began to leave, but one of them lingered, eventually turning and loitering at the doorway.

"Yes?" Caine snapped irritably, without looking up.

"Mr President, sir… What should we do about these stories… about the ambassador?"

"What do you mean?" Caine asked, looking up now, his face a mask. "I thought the matter was already in hand… is there anything new I should know?"

"No, Mr. President, sir," he hesitated. "It's just some of the stories…. They seemed to really upset her. The ambassador. It would be nice if…"

"I really don't see," Caine answered flatly. "Why that should be any concern of ours. Beyond analysing why some stories might be more upsetting than others," he finished, waving his hand to indicate that the conversation was over. As the last man left, Caine picked at the dossier. Sun and Crichton would be coming to a formal banquet next week: Maybe there'd be time to personally sound them out? Maybe he could personally broach the aging thing, too? He'd met them once or twice before, of course, but that had all been about photo-ops and handshakes. Now, it seemed, there were more meaty things to discuss and sometimes the President could make progress where others could not.

"~"

The banquet at the White House had been scheduled to go on until so late that Aeryn and John had decided in advance to stay over in the Capitol, spending the night in a VIP suite at the White House.

Everything at the banquet had gone as smoothly as to be expected: Aeryn was even getting more and more used to the dress and behaviour codes at such human functions. She only grumbled to John twice, once about having to apply make-up to her face when they were getting ready, and then, later in the evening, about how frelling farbot and uncomfortable her shoes were, even though they were what John had called flats.

The banquet itself had been a largely boring affair: too much rich food and too much drink, almost as though someone was trying to make a point about something. Then there were the unrelenting, condescending questions from diplomats and their spouses, too high on their own superiority complexes to even realise how badly they came over. Their patronizing remarks transparently masqueraded as genuine interest in Aeryn, her people and her life. Lastly there were the business men and politicians, professional networkers to the bone, trying every angle to increase their influence or wealth.

And then there was the brief, strange moment when they had been introduced to the President, hands had been shaken and photographs taken. It was while the flash bulbs were sparking, just after the obligatory kiss on the cheek, whilst Aeryn's hand was still gripped by that of the President, that he had made his strange remark.

"Settling in alright?" He had asked. Aeryn had cocked her head whilst thinking of how to answer that and had just opened her mouth and composed a reply in English when the President had carried on. "I'll send some of my people over next week. See what we can do about getting to the bottom of this delayed aging business." Caine had said no more, hadn't even looked at her as he said it, his face plastered with a toothy smile for the benefit of the photographers. It had left Aeryn feeling slightly bemused, struggling to control a frown as the assorted security agents and flunkies indicated to her that the photo-op was over and that she should move along and join the milling crowd. An aide had come up to her soon afterwards, explaining that the President would like to talk to her in private, later, but the evening had passed and nothing further had come of it.

She resolved to get a group of her people together to discuss it, just as soon as they got back to the embassy.

'~'

Back in their suite, after the banquet, John picked up his cell phone to check for messages whilst Aeryn went to the bathroom. There were six messages, all from Agent Shelley. As the sounds of running water came from bathroom, John plonked his eema onto the edge of the bed and opened the first message.

"Aeryn!" John cried excitedly. "Grab your coat, Shelley thinks he's got a lead on the stories about you!" Aeryn stuck her head round the door, a questioning look in her eyes. Just then the bell to their suite sounded, announcing that someone from the embassy staff wanted to speak to them, presumably about the same matter. "He's pulled in two suspects, a local and…. One of our people!"

'~'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

'~'

John and Aeryn's security detail wasted no time in whisking them off to the nondescript building where the two suspects were being held. Within minutes, they were being hustled inside and through the corridors to meet Special Agent In Charge Shelley. John barged into the assigned office, still in his tuxedo, whilst Aeryn trailed a few steps behind, encumbered by the long dress and impractical shoes, which protocol dictated she had had to wear to the President's banquet earlier that evening. The remains of their security detail discretely halted at the office door, waiting outside.

"Who you got?" John demanded as Shelley stood and moved to greet them with an outstretched hand. He didn't answer straight away, but instead once again indicated that they should sit in a set of couches rather than at the main desk.

"Please," Shelley asked with a smile and a gesture to the couches. John and Aeryn exchanged a quick glance and agreed to sit on the couch. If that was what it took to get Shelley talking quickly, it was a small price to pay.

"Mr. Shelley, please explain?" Aeryn asked as politely as she could manage, smoothing down the skirt of her dress as she sat.

"One of our agents thought it was worth putting a tail on one of your people when they went off on their own." Aeryn raised an eyebrow at that, wondering how often her people were followed around by the local authorities without their consent or knowledge. Probably as often as the authorities could manage it, she decided, unamused at the implications. She decided to leave her suspicions and disapproval unvoiced for now, but filed them for future reference and action. She would have to get her people to implement some protocols to counter such intrusions. "We picked them up in a restaurant, downtown. Reckon it was a pre-arranged rendezvous. Discrete booth, out of sight and earshot. Just to confirm, none of your people had any business in town tonight, not linked to the President's banquet?"

"No," Aeryn confirmed flatly, trying to suppress the multiple displeasures now coursing through her mind and prevent them from emerging in her voice. "Who is it?"

"Now you appreciate, of course, that I cannot hold or question your person, as they have diplomatic immunity," he said, ignoring for a moment the question of their identity. "But our people are strictly forbidden to fraternise with yours, outside of protocols," the agent let slip. Aeryn inwardly fumed a little more. Had the humans really arrested the pair for nothing more than meeting for a meal outside of business hours? If true, if they had no other grounds for doing so, it was outrageous.

"We will deal with them," Aeryn stated, nodding, trying to keep her impatience and anger under control. "Who are you holding?"

"Our own person, of course, is a different matter. However, he's not told us anything yet. Interestingly, both of them have asked to speak to you, ambassador."

"BOTH of them? Who are they?" John demanded. Shelley sighed.

"Lieutenant Pittach and Captain Kovack."

'~'

Lieutenant Meila Pittach barely looked up as Aeryn entered the interview room. She didn't need to: Only the two of them were present, and the young, crestfallen Peacekeeper knew exactly who had joined her.

Aeryn settled herself as well as she could in the chair opposite. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. Pittach remained intent on examining a coffee mark on the table between them. The silence dragged on for another few microts.

"Meila," Aeryn spoke softly but commandingly, using Pittach's first name to address her. "Hold your head up, like a Peacekeeper officer." Pittach complied, reluctant at first, but after a few microts holding and returning Aeryn's gaze while dropping a defiant mask across her features.

"Better." Aeryn remarked. "Now, tell me…."

"I'm sorry I went behind your back, I should have told you. But I don't understand, commandant…. I mean, ambassador. I don't understand why the humans arrested us. Is it because he is one of their soldiers and I am a Peacekeeper? Do they think we are a threat to their security?" Aeryn did an excellent job of masking her own emotions and biting back the questions which Pittach's garbled outburst provoked. Pittach took a breath and continued. "I mean, neither of us would ever betray our own people. We never talked about work, never." She laughed slightly, nervously. "We have so little time together, we never had time to anyway…"

Aeryn's worst suspicions regarding the overzealousness of the human security operation seemed to be confirmed: Pittach and Kovack had been engaged in nothing more sinister than… she searched for the human word… dating. The young officer seemed to have no idea about Shelley's darker suspicions.

"How long have you two been…?" Aeryn began, then realized that it was a largely pointless question: Probably since they had met, just a few monens ago, and every stolen moment since then.

"Pretty much since we first decided to stay on Earth. There was a lot of time waiting around during all the debriefs and investigations after the rescue. We had a lot of arns to fill, and I found him… interesting. Then whenever I came to Washington with you, or he had some time free to travel to New York…"

Oh, frell! Aeryn sighed to herself. Probably quite literally, her mind added, threatening to make her laugh inappropriately. It all fitted. She was fairly certain that, once she was done here, Kovack would give her pretty much the same story, and she also felt confident that nothing incriminating would be found. Shelley's people had gone looking for a conspiracy, and seen rattlers under every stone, as John might have said. She would wager that Shelley would have no evidence linking the pair to the stories being circulated, or to anything else untoward, for that matter. One of the couple might well have been a spy, that thought was still credible. But the thought that either of them would be involved in spreading malicious stories about them was… inconceivable.

The humans would want to investigate further, of course, to be sure that Pittach and Kovack were not the source of the leaks and rumours, but with every microt Aeryn felt more and more certain that it was not them. There would be repercussions. She was sure that the humans would not be happy about Kovack's choice of recreation partner. She suspected that he was still regarded with some suspicion by his people after he had helped to rescue her family from Fairfax.

For her part, and on a personal level, she was not sure how to deal with the situation. Despite her marriage to John, the old Peacekeeper tenets were so deeply ingrained in her people that they lacked both rules and practical experience as to how to deal with such liaisons. The events surrounding her own five-year exile from her people were not exactly a precedent which she would recommend any of her people to follow. Even though the rules on contamination had been substantially relaxed, some of the attitudes would take longer to die out.

There could be positives, too. Maybe, if they were serious about the relationship, Kovack might be persuaded to join them? This emotional attachment dren was all so complicated, she could almost see why the old Peacekeeper order had frowned upon it.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding," Aeryn told Meila. "I'm sure we can get this all sorted out, but I'm going to have to talk to Kovack and the other humans." Pittach sighed resignedly as Aeryn patted her hand, stood and made for the door.

'~'

Aeryn settled herself on the couch in Shelley's New York office and took a long sip of her green tea. Although it wouldn't be true to say that the long weekend she had just spent with John's close family had been entirely relaxing, it had at least been a largely positive experience. She was never entirely off-duty, even if everyone was friendly and nothing of any huge importance had happened. Her official job as ambassador and her position in the Crichton clan as newly-discovered wife of one of the inner family circle both saw to that. However, less than a day into returning to work, the official demands on her had fully reasserted themselves once more and were dominating her waking arns. Such matters as dealing with the fall-out from the detention of Pittach and Kovack.

"I, umm. I, err, have to say, umm, it looks like your initial hunch is proving correct, ambassador," Special Agent Shelley addressed her, clearly struggling with the admission. "We can find no evidence linking Kovack or Pittach to the smears against you." He seemed almost disappointed. Aeryn couldn't shake the thought that he should be feeling other things instead, such as embarrassment and shame. "Doesn't mean there isn't any of course," he added, desperately trying to cling on to his theory and his dignity.

"Or to espionage?" Aeryn demanded, driving the point home. Shelley shook his head, although Aeryn wasn't convinced he would have told her even if there was such evidence. He did, after all, work for the US administration, not for her, a fact that she was becoming increasingly aware of and uneasy with.

"What's happening with Kovack?" John enquired. Aeryn knew that whilst John wouldn't go as far as to say he liked the man, he scarcely knew him, after all he did know, understand and appreciate what the captain had done for his family.

Shelley shrugged. "I really couldn't say. But I doubt if his superiors are going to look kindly on this, considering his position and past actions."

"Yeah, I reckon there's some just been itching for some payback."

Aeryn nodded diplomatically as John openly snorted his contempt for Kovack's commanders. On their way over to the office she and John had discussed the possibility of offering Kovack a job with the embassy if things went badly for him with his superiors, but had agreed to wait and see how things turned out first. Any premature action on their part would surely only worsen his current situation. Pittach, meanwhile, had been assigned duties which minimized her contact with humans. Aeryn had reckoned that such an approach would be best for both her and Kovack, at least until everything was resolved, whilst it also seemed a practical way of addressing the slight risk that she might have actually been behind the leaks.

"So, are there any other leads?" John asked, his voice hopeful once more.

Shelley blew out a breath. "Well, we've been looking into some of the people and companies who might have been pissed off about the whole Fairfax business, people who might have something to loose with your people now taking over as the main conduit bringing space technology to Earth."

"And?"

"Pff!" Shelley puffed air out again. "That's a mighty big pool of people and organisations, mostly with the wherewithal to cover their tracks, too."

"Maybe it's even someone who took exception to us the first time we were here?" Aeryn suggested, sipping her tea. "Like Munroe?"

"Or Holt?" John supplied. "Yes. No. That doesn't work." A penny dropped. "Something's just occurred to me. Some of the rumours, well, let's just say there's an element of truth to them."

Shelley raised an eyebrow and appeared to be summoning up the courage and most diplomatic wording to ask which stories and what truths when John continued.

"None of the stories are later than the Kkore war…"

"The Kkore?" Shelley began, his words betraying that he was wondering which alien group they were before he shrugged, indicating that the answer was unimportant for now. "So either there are no more stories worth telling after that time…?"

"Or, whoever is behind the stories only has information up until that point…" John supplied

"Interesting," Shelley conceded, still largely in the dark. "But I'm not sure where this leads us. I mean…."

"You could look at the companies on your list which were formed about 15 years ago?" Aeryn suggested.

"Or the people. See if any of them first appeared about then?" John added.

"First appeared?" Shelley questioned, frowning.

"Yep," John confirmed. "Just in case, you know, we aren't the only people to have found our way here from the UTs?"

"Sounds pretty far-fetched to me!" Shelley replied, having a hard time covering his scepticism. "But we can scan through the list, see if anything leaps out?" he conceded. Some poor archivist was going to have a long week.

'~'

Shelley flicked through the dossier again, just to be sure. It was nothing concrete yet, but he'd been in the business long enough to know that two plus two plus two generally came out to six. The evidence, such as it was, was circumstantial, but it all fitted Crichton's bizarre theory: The earliest reports of several of the rumours about Ambassador Sun had been traced to public internet hotspots in the town of Bethesda, one of the capital's more affluent suburbs.

Bethesda was the base of a number of interesting organisations, not least of which was Philips Boyle Inc. Philips Boyle was a small but successful technology company with a diverse and extraordinarily innovative portfolio based around the defence and space industries. Several of their technologies had been key components of the drive and weapons systems on the X-469 and X-473. That in itself was not of course remarkable, and neither was it remarkable that Bethesda was also the home of Mrs. Myriam Daniels, the major shareholder and elusive CEO of Phillips Boyle.

What was interesting was that there was no record of Mrs. Daniels, or Grey, as she was then, until about 12 years ago. She had suddenly appeared, along with her daughter, and within a year had married the soon-to-be-late Mr. Daniels, co-founder and then CEO of Philips Boyle. Mr. Daniels had died tragically of a heart attack just a couple of months after their marriage. And within the year Mrs. Daniels, who rumour had it was a fearsome character, had edged out all of her rivals and secured near total control of the business. There seemed to have been a little speculation as to where she had come from and about the death of Mr. Daniels, but nothing solid or consistent. Indeed, no one seemed to have said anything very critical or insightful about her back then for very long, and certainly no one had done so recently. She seemed to be, if anything, something of a recluse by CEO standards. Indeed, the last piece of the puzzle that Shelley had assembled was the extraordinary fact that, unlike almost every other rival in her business, Mrs. Daniels had made no attempt to meet with or lobby the Peacekeeper ambassador or her entourage.

Shelley picked up the photograph, taken from Mrs. Daniels security file at the Department of Defence, holding it as though it was a talisman that might mystically reveal the truth to him if only he stared at it hard enough. He knew that the so-called evidence he had didn't amount to a hill of beans and that, no matter how incriminating it looked to a suspicious mind like his, he couldn't possibly go around invading someone's privacy or making accusations based on it, and certainly wouldn't dare do so when that someone was as wealthy and well connected as Mrs. Daniels.

There was only one thing he could do. Closing down his computer, he swept the sheaf of papers and the photograph into his briefcase and headed out.

"~"

Shelley wasn't surprised to find Sun and Crichton were at home at the embassy compound. He was in charge of their Secret Service security detail, after all – it was his business to know where they might be found. A quick call ahead had confirmed it for him, to ensure that he did not have a wasted trip. It was a long way out to the embassy without a spaceship, after all.

A young assistant, one of the hyper-efficient Peacekeepers on the embassy staff, showed him through to the ambassador's private lounge. There she asked him what he would like to drink before closing the door and heading off in search of Crichton. Shelley smiled at her back as she marched from the room: With her manner and her Teutonic looks, he suspected that most of his fellow Americans would have simply thought of her as an archetypal German if they did not know otherwise. Then his smile faded: From what he had seen in various files, the uncomfortable parallels did not end with looks or efficiency. Various intelligence sources indicated that the Peacekeepers had only changed course from being totalitarian xenophobes about two decades ago, under the short-lived but critical leadership of Aeryn Sun, the woman now sitting in front of him.

An agent such as himself was not supposed to get emotionally attached to the foreign dignitaries they worked with, but he could not help but feel some admiration and some gratitude towards Aeryn. He shuddered to think how events might have turned out had Earth encountered the Peacekeepers in their previous, unreformed state.

Ambassador Sun looked up from the rug in front of the empty fireplace where she was playing with her baby son and smiled. To Shelley she always seemed much more relaxed and friendly on her home turf than in his office or out and about.

"Agent Shelley, what brings you all the way out here?" she asked, not bothering to get up but gesturing for him to sit on one of the three large, white sofas set around the rug. Her unpretentious attitude was such a change from his usual charges. For that, and for the changes she had wrought amongst her people, Shelley found he couldn't help but warm to her.

"Hmm, thank you, ambassador," he mumbled, playing for time until Crichton arrived. "I've got some things I want to talk to you and Mr Crichton about, see if they spark any thoughts." He really wanted to do this just once and not to have any response from one of them biased by the other having foreknowledge. He took his time choosing where to sit and making himself comfortable whilst Aeryn half watched him with a slight smile.

He didn't have long to wait. The Peacekeeper who had shown him into the room returned within two minutes, with John Crichton bouncing along in her wake. His uncontrolled exuberance in contrast to her more controlled progress gave the comical impression of something light and uncontrolled being towed along by a stable vehicle. A bit like an empty water skiing rope kicking about in the wake of a motorboat.

Agent Shelley stood briefly to shake John's hand, pushing back the mental imagery.

"Hey, Shelley," John drawled. "What can we do for you today? Pizza? Beer? Oh, I know, fellip nectar… Ain't nowhere in the whole US of A does fellip nectar like ours." John winked at the hapless agent, who took the teasing in his stride. He knew that John knew that he knew John didn't think much of fellip nectar as an alternative to beer. Besides, he also knew that John knew that he would not be drinking any alcohol when on duty. Shelley smiled and mumbled a few words, gently declining the offers.

Aeryn frowned at her husband, perturbed once again by his ability to turn any situation into a discussion of food and drink. She only hoped he didn't start talking about sports next.

"I will be back in a few…. minutes…. with your…. coffee," the young Peacekeeper assistant said, obviously trying out her spoken English on him. He smiled up at her in thanks. She did not smile back, but merely nodded and then strode from the room. Shelley might have been offended had he not by now worked out that few of the Peacekeepers boasted the same, humanised, social graces as Aeryn Sun. It was merely their way to be brusque.

"I've got some things I wouldn't mind running by you," Shelley remarked, pulling a sheaf of papers and photos from his briefcase, before selecting a few and fanning them out across the low table in front of him, like a hand of cards

"Grayza!" John hissed almost immediately, turning pale almost in equal measure to Aeryn's features reddening.

"So, you know her?" Shelley ventured cautiously, a little surprised that they had recognised anyone, never mind so quickly and with so much evident emotional connection.

"Oh, we know her alright," John almost snarled. Aeryn laid a calming hand on his and nodded to indicate the baby gurgling on her lap. Shelley watched the exchange carefully but without showing emotion on his part. Not only was he curious to watch their responses, it was, he reminded himself, his job to remain professionally detached.

"She was my predecessor as Peacekeeper commandant. She betrayed my people, and others, to the Kkore," Aeryn supplied for Shelley's benefit. There was that name again: the one they had used in his office the other day. Shelley scoured his memory for anything about who the Kkore might be. He thought he remembered something about a long-concluded war, the one during which Sun had been brought to power amongst the Peacekeepers.

"And you overthrew her?" Shelley remarked: It was a statement more than a question. Aeryn shrugged, not vocalising a reply.

"The Peacekeeper leadership removed her and replaced her with Aeryn," John supplied, slowly and carefully. The baby was starting to fret, and Aeryn cuddled him closer, shushing and rocking him into silence.

"And banished Grayza and her daughter," John added.

"And now she's here on Earth?" Aeryn's quiet statement wasn't really a question, and they all knew it. "How the frell….?"

"A wormhole, I'd imagine," John replied. "It's always goddamn wormholes." The bitterness in his voice was noted by Shelley and filed away for future reference.

Aeryn nodded. "And she's the one been making trouble for us?" she commented. Shelley demurred to give a straight answer, but everyone knew full well now that she was most likely behind the stories about them.

"Where is the bitch?" John growled. Once again Aeryn laid a calming hand on John's arm as she nodded to indicate the baby. John reddened but held his tongue.

"Ah, well, you see, I can't tell you that…." Shelley began pulling papers together, ready to return them to his briefcase.

"Agent Shelley, she hates both John and me. And she is utterly ruthless. It is not just us who are in danger if she is here on your planet." Aeryn explained, outwardly calm. Shelley could only wonder what inner turmoil she must be going through from this shocking revelation.

Shelley shook his head and smiled apologetically. "That may be so, but we have no concrete proof that she has done anything wrong. I can't just arrest her and I can't risk a diplomatic incident by telling you where…"

"So you're just going to let her… what? Carry on doing whatever no-good stuff she's been up to?" John raged as Shelley raised a placating hand, asking for quiet.

"Please Mr. Crichton, calm down. As I say, we have no actual evidence that she has done anything wrong. Indeed, this could all just be a case of mistaken identity…."

"Oh, I'd know that bitch anywhere!" John interrupted. "Some faces you don't forget."

"Now that you have suggested that she might not be who she claims, I can instruct the proper authorities to investigate further, see what they can find out," Shelley pressed on. John continued to bluster, expressing his anger, whilst Aeryn continued firmly to point out how much of a danger Grayza might be, both to the embassy and to Earth. Shelley would not be moved, though. Within five minutes he had made his excuses and was leaving the compound, not wishing to prolong a potentially damaging confrontation with those he had been charged to protect.

'~'

"What do you think, babe?" John asked Aeryn after Shelley had gone. Aeryn pondered for a moment before answering.

"I think," she answered slowly and carefully, "that I'm going to take a flight in my Prowler and go and talk to Sikozu and Pilot."

"~"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

'~'

"So that's it?" Aeryn asked, perching on the edge of Pilot's console. "You can't track down Grayza or her lifepod?"

"I am sorry, Commandant Sun, but there really is nothing more I can do," Pilot confirmed. He and Sikozu had each spent many arns on the fruitless endeavour.

"There's just too much non-human technology down there," Sikozu added, fidgeting uneasily as she stood in front of the console. "We've run scans, but there are little bits of technology from our end of the Universe spread all over Crichton's home world now."

Frell! Why did it have to be so hard, Aeryn wondered? Why had they made it so hard for themselves? All this equipment at their beck and call and yet they couldn't locate one frelling planetside Sebacean.

"Did you try the Peacekeeper ident scanners as well?" Aeryn asked, earning a weary eye-roll from Sikozu.

"That was the first thing we did, Aeryn," Sikozu replied a little testily. "We've used every technology available to us." Even after all these years, she was no better at hiding her feelings when she felt someone had asked her what she regarded as a stupid question.

Aeryn sighed. It looked like they were going to have to employ other, slower methods. But before she headed back down to the planet to speak to John, she decided to make the most of her trip up to Moya.

"Fine." Aeryn conceded. "Sikozu, do you have plans for third meal?"

"~"

John Kovack heard the roar of the motorbike pulling up at the front of his house, the sound setting off a tug on his heartstrings as it stirred memories of the times Meila had used such a vehicle to travel to one of their romantic assignations. He had originally taken this place up in New York State a couple of months back, in order to be closer to Meila, to give them a bolt hole away from it all. Slowly, he had found he had liked it better than the other places he might have stayed and had spent more and more of his compulsory gardening leave there.

It wouldn't be Meila this time, though: she would have called ahead. Besides, they were both under strict instructions from their superiors not to see each other until his disciplinary hearing was over. Burying those memories and unhappy thoughts as best he could, he drew back his arm and cast his fishing line out as far as he could across the lake before settling back in his canvas chair. In no particular hurry, with nowhere particular to be, he slowly reached for a beer.

"So this is fishing?" a half-familiar female voice said from just a few feet behind him, causing him to startle. Not many people crept up on him. Not many people could. He barely had to turn to see who his visitor was, as she stepped up beside him, revealing her identity. "I'm not sure if I see the attraction," Aeryn Sun remarked, wrinkling her nose and gazing off towards his gently bobbing float.

"Hmm, I'm not sure if you should be here," Kovack replied in a not-unfriendly manner. "Beer?" He asked, holding a bottle up to her.

"Not this time, thank you," she replied hefting her motorbike helmet in explanation. He scowled gently, showing a trace of disappointment. "But some other time perhaps? When I am not piloting?"

Kovack nodded in agreement, honour satisfied. "So, if you're not here to fish, and not here to drink beer..?"

"I need to find someone…."

"There's a good singles bar in town….. Thought you and the commander were happily married?" He joked, regretting it even before he caught the scowl on her face. "Sorry," he apologised. "What's wrong with normal channels?" he asked, trying to distance himself from his faux-pas.

"I think your people are afraid of what I might do to this person."

"She pissed you off real bad, huh?" He teased her, before adding sullenly. "And maybe not 'my people'. Not any longer, not the way things are going."

"This person. She is a Sebacean." Aeryn took a deep breath. "She betrayed us. We were nearly annihilated because of her."

The only thing showing that Kovack was now giving her his full attention was how still he had suddenly gone. He sat totally immobile, staring ahead. "Go on…" he said softly.

"It was the Kkore war, fifteen cycles ago. At the start of it she was the head of the Peacekeepers. She hates me because I stood up to her and took her place leading my people. Now she wants to destroy all we're trying to do here."

"And what are you trying to do here, ambassador?" He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow.

"To build a better, peaceful future for both our peoples." Aeryn responded evenly, dropping down to squat beside him.

"Nice dream," Kovack sighed. "I wish I could believe that everyone down here was behind you on that, though." He shook his head in evident sadness.

Aeryn stood and paced three steps forwards and backwards, thought and consideration evident in each movement as she gathered her thoughts to reply.

"Some of you, yes."

"Flattered, I'm sure," Kovack snorted.

"So, you will help me?"

"Never said that." He paused and tossed a stone, overhand, far out across the water. "I'm already in the dog house. Helping you again, now, could get me benched for life. Or worse."

"You know, whether you help me with this or not, and however things work out with your disciplinary hearing, there is a place for you with my people, if you want it."

"Thanks, but I don't need your charity." He snapped back, setting down his beer on the ground.

"It's not charity, captain. You're a fine officer, and one of the few humans I really trust."

"And of course, you'd be getting something out of having an ex-US military officer on your payroll…?"

"There are plenty of officers in your military. I'm sure I could recruit as many as I wanted, if I wanted to. What I'd be getting is seeing two of my friends able to be together whenever they wanted."

Kovack stopped in mid-cast, taken aback by the directness and sincerity of her words.

"So, this person…." he asked, pulling his hand back to recast the line." The one you want to find. What can you tell me about her?"

'~'

"But I don't want to be taken out of school!" Livvy protested loudly, surprising both John and Aeryn. They had expected resistance to come from D'Argo, who seemed to be settling in well, but not from their taciturn daughter. "I've got friends and everything there now!"

"But hon…" John tried, laying a hand on her arm which she shook off angrily.

"It's true," Deke confirmed, nodding. "She's in with the geek-clique…" his misplaced fraternal support was interrupted by Livvy loudly blowing a raspberry at him.

Aeryn raised a commanding finger and eyebrow and the argument fell silent. "I know it is a disappointment to you both. But it is for your own safety. And hopefully it is only temporary."

"But I…!" Liv began to protest.

"No. This is not open for debate. Discussion, maybe, later in family time, when you have both calmed down, but not debate." John added, feeling that the human halves of his children would require a little more explanation than the orders that their Sebacean halves would be expected to follow.

"DAD!" Liv tried again.

"No," John stated. "I'm 100% with your mother on this one. I promise, we'll get you back in school as soon as we can." John paused for a moment. Real regret crept into his voice. "I'm sorry."

Livvy, in a fine imitation of her father, crossed her arms, stuck out her bottom lip and began a sulk which would end up lasting for days.

"~"

The big, black motorbike pulled up on the dusty roadside behind a ubiquitous, light blue sedan. Two figures, in heavy black leathers and helmets, climbed from the bike and pulled off their equally dark helmets. As they walked the short distance to the nearby, wooden picnic table they gestured in greeting to the man already seated there. He nodded back, turning in his seat and squinting into the morning sun as he watched them approach.

The newcomers sat as the waiting man began unfolding a map across the picnic table.

Kovack jabbed with his finger at the hiking map, now spread between them across the table, to reinforce his directions. "She's got a wooden lodge, a sort of private getaway, no more than a dozen rooms, down in this valley. Nice and isolated. No neighbours for miles."

"She's there often?" John asked.

"Sure is. Spends most of her time there, when she's not working. Just her, sometimes her daughter." Kovack ran his finger along the map, tracing the main highway until he reached a small track. "Once you leave town, you take the first track on the right and just follow it down about a mile. Doesn't seem to be any special security, beyond the normal."

"You wanna come?" John asked.

"Whatever you've got planned, I don't reckon I want to be in that deep." Kovack replied with a shrug. "I've still got skin in the game here."

John nodded in acknowledgement. He had two decades away from Earth and an extraterrestrial family more than Kovack when it came to deciding loyalties. There was nothing to be gained and maybe quite a lot to be lost in pushing the younger man any further.

"Well, thanks anyway. You know you got our gratitude," John said.

"And that job offer is open any time you want it," Aeryn added, lifting the map, folding it and pocketing it. Kovack grunted his thanks.

"Maybe someday. Maybe soon," Kovack remarked, slapping one hand on John's elbow, the other on Aeryn's shoulder. A moment later he and John were shaking hands. "We'll see, hey?"

"Thanks, we owe you," John remarked before donning his helmet. He turned and joined Aeryn, who already had the bike off its stand and its engine ticking over.

'~'

A day later, Aeryn pulled the motorbike off a main road and onto a dirt track and almost immediately dismounted. Ahead of them was a long, unmade and isolated track winding gently between the densely wooded hills. John could see the tension in Aeryn's bearing as they walked. She didn't like the situation much and neither did he.

After meeting with Kovack they had gone back to Moya, from where Sikozu had instituted surveillance on the lodge from high orbit whilst Aeryn and John had planned their next move against Grayza. Aeryn had finally decided on a stealthy ground approach, using just a small team of commandos, herself and John. Her reasoning was that such an approach reduced the risks of alerting either the authorities or the ex-commandant to their intentions, and also reduced the likelihood of causing a major incident if the humans were alerted. By adopting such a low-key approach they hoped to catch Mele-On off-guard and settle the matter with minimal repercussions.

They had not had long to wait before Sikozu reported that Grayza appeared to have returned to her home.

The commandos had gone in some hours ago. Since then they had been getting into position and conducting reconnaissance. Ten minutes ago they had finally signalled that all was secure and in place for Aeryn and John to make their final approach.

John checked the comms feed and the tracking device strapped to his upper arm before breaking his silence.

"Maybe this isn't such a good plan? We should come back mob-handed. Just get the boys and girls to take her up to Moya and question her there."

"Sikozu, Nybar and Pilot are monitoring us. The commandos have secured the target. She's here, now. She doesn't know we're coming and I have questions I want to ask her, without giving her the chance to think about her replies." Aeryn didn't need to add that she didn't want to risk Grayza going to ground, invoking some form of help or having time to prepare more lies and deceptions to Aeryn's questions. Nor did she need to dwell on how the US administration might react if the Peacekeepers muscled in and extracted Grayza by force. "Everyone is in position. It's time to go." She tapped at her earpiece to indicate that the leaders of the two three-commando squads had both checked in with her even though John had heard the message, too, being on the same comms circuit as everyone else.

As they came within a couple of hundred meters of the lodge, they could just make out a figure apparently reading on the large veranda overlooking the valley. Aeryn and John immediately ventured into the woods, in order to approach as close as possible under the cover of the undergrowth. Despite their security teams, they could see no point in taking extra risks by exposing themselves more than necessary. As they approached what looked like their best place to break cover, the figure got up and casually went inside. From this distance there was no mistaking her identity, despite the passage of years and the change in context and clothing.

"Grayza!" John hissed quietly. Aeryn merely nodded, holding a finger up to her lips to indicate that he should say no more. A couple of microts later, the figures of three Peacekeeper commandos emerged from the shadows around the lodge and disappeared inside. The other team were somewhere in the woods, securing the perimeter around the lodge, keeping out of sight even to Aeryn's keen and professional eyes.

The microts ticked by until another short, curt code phrase, spoken in Sebacean, crackled across the comms circuit.

"Come on, John. Time to go," Aeryn remarked, largely unnecessarily. She checked her side arm, her main weapon and her comms before standing and flicking her fingers to indicate that they should advance.

Aeryn went first, with John following behind, taking a slightly different route. Within microts they were at the veranda. One of their commandos stood by the open door, indicating with a nod that it was safe for Aeryn and John to enter. One after the other, they climbed up and slipped inside through the open door, finding themselves at the edge of a large living space.

"Hello Officer Sun. Have you grown tired of piloting transport pods? And Crichton, too? I've been expecting you," Grayza greeted them softly. She was standing by a doorway on the far side of the room, covered by the light pulse rifle of another of the commandos. Behind Aeryn and John the commando by the entrance silently retired outside onto the veranda to secure their way out of the lodge. Aeryn knew that the third member of the team would be following the plan, searching the lodge, looking for anything of concern or interest.

"You've been watching too many James Bond movies," John remarked, flamboyantly waving his pulse pistol at Grayza. "What's your security here? You must have something in place." John demanded his voice sharp, impatient and tense.

"You think I would tell you? Just like that?" Grayza replied with calm bordering on amusement. "No, no, no. You don't get your demands met as easily as that. After all, I wouldn't want to be at your mercy, would I?" She smiled almost sweetly at him. John suppressed a shudder.

"You say you have been expecting us?" Aeryn continued, apparently unruffled. It was not the first time she had faced down Grayza and there was no way she was going to give her old enemy the pleasure of seeing her unsettled this time. It was Aeryn's experience that the power in such situations typically rested with the individual who remained most in control of themselves and the proceedings. "Then you must know why we are here."

"I can make an educated guess," Grayza replied as John and Aeryn slowly made their way further into the room. "But I don't like guesses. Why are you here?"

"We have come to ask you some questions," Aeryn responded evenly.

"Questions? If you'd have called ahead I could have made appropriate arrangements to satisfy you," Mele-On said, winking and pouting at John. Aeryn shoved her growing fury towards the awful woman deep down underneath her Peacekeeper self control. Now was not the time to let Grayza get inside her head and distract her.

John fumed openly and Grayza chuckled. Aeryn ignored the subtext of her remark with steely determination.

"Why? Why spread all of those stories?" Aeryn asked, getting to the point with typical directness. "It seems a poor strategy: they drew our attention to you."

"You must have known you'd be found out in the end?" John stated more than asked. Aeryn quirked an eyebrow hoping for a reply. That was the thing that really didn't add up in her mind: they would never have known she was here, on Earth, if she hadn't put out all of the stories about them. Spite and revenge just didn't seem to be big enough motivators, even for Grayza, when weighed in the balance against her own unmasking and the safety of her own skin. And Aeryn was sure she was astute enough to have seen that far ahead, to have made that connection. The thought niggled at the back of her mind like a sore.

"Oh, I wanted you to find me. This is going to make such a damaging story for you," Grayza crowed. Aeryn felt an icy dread start to creep across her skin.

"Oh, I don't think so."Aeryn replied calmly. "We're just two old colleagues, having a chat, after all."

'~'

"We're just two old colleagues, having a chat, after all," John watched Aeryn accentuate the threat of her words by subtly adjusting her grip on her weapon. He cast his eyes back to Grayza, hoping to see some sign of discomfort from her. He was disappointed.

"So, spill, what's the plan, Mistress Klebb?" John demanded, trying to bluster over his own obvious emotional turmoil. He shot another glance at Aeryn, and smiled wanly, drawing strength that her usual impenetrable calm still seemed to be in place.

"Now who has watched too many James Bond movies?" Grayza spat back. Then she gave an exaggerated sigh, as though explaining to a child or simpleton. "You expect that this is where I tell you everything. Well, no, Mr Crichton, this is where I expect you…."

John didn't catch the end of her sentence. He didn't need to, knowing the reference from Goldfinger well enough. He also really didn't like the way Grayza shifted her hand out of his sight as she began to say it.

"She's armed!" John shouted, drawing and attempting to fire Winona at Grayza as he dived headlong over the couch nearest the doorway.

Before the words were even out of his mouth, Aeryn rolled up beside him. Her time as a soldier had stood her in good stead: She had also caught the change in how Grayza was holding herself, although not the movie references, and had tucked and dived towards the same piece of cover at the same moment as she heard the first sound of John's shouted warning. The commando guarding her had not been so lucky or alert, however. Being the only person in the room with a gun drawn, Grayza had targeted him first. She had shot him in the neck with the weapon she had somehow magicked into her hand from somewhere about her person or surroundings.

Wood and glass, splintered and shattered by two further shots from Grayza's handgun, fell to the floor where Aeryn had been standing even as she came out of her rolling dive. Both John and Aeryn had taken the precaution of wearing lightweight, Earth body armour, just in case events somehow turned south, but they both knew it would be no protection against a head shot, such as Grayza had used on their guard.

John looked up from his tumble to see Grayza standing over the body of their fallen commando, perhaps trying to decide if she should risk stooping to retrieve one of his pulse weapons. She held an Earth handgun close to her waist, doubly lethal, despite, or perhaps because of its relatively primitive technology.

"I hate being ambushed," Aeryn remarked, even as her own pulse pistol appeared in her hand. It was too confined for her rifle, which Aeryn had relinquished as she sought cover. John nodded at her observation.

"Someday we gotta go somewhere people are pleased to see us," he retorted. John winced as a bullet from Grayza passed through the couch, missing both of them but demonstrating what poor cover it represented. However, at that moment the Peacekeeper who had been guarding the veranda opened fire from the doorway, forcing Grayza to seek cover herself. It was a pyrrhic victory however, as a microt later Grayza returned fire, from behind a heavy sideboard, with the dead Peacekeeper's much more powerful pulse pistol. Her first two shots took a corner of the sofa and blasted a chunk out of the outer wall of the lodge.

They only had microts to think: Grayza had been expecting them and she seemed determined on a shoot-out. Aeryn's mind quickly ran through her enemy's tactics, looking for an answer. It was a trap of some sort. Grayza had put out the stories expecting them to find her. She would have expected them to kill her or to run away if and when they discovered her intentions. So, if they ran outside, what part of the trap was waiting for them out there? Maybe there was a sniper outside, despite the Peacekeeper perimeter team, waiting for them to run out of the building? But if so, why even let them get inside, and risk harm coming to Grayza? If they remained under cover, such as it was, inside then what preparations had Grayza made for that eventuality? Grayza clearly had no intention of talking to them in any meaningful way, so that likely meant no sniper, as they could have picked them off on their way in. In conventional terms, she was hopelessly outgunned. Which meant they were still subject to whatever trap Grayza had prepared, most likely prepared in this room.

Another shot from Grayza tore through the couch, the energy of the blast shoving the furniture further back against them. Their Peacekeeper guard returned fire in kind. Aeryn caught John and the soldier's eyes and pointed forcefully at the still-open door out onto the veranda, just a few paces beyond the couch. She lifted her hand and flashed five fingers, then four, three, two….

"Goodbye, Officer Sun….!" Grayza called out, ending in an unexpected, triumphant laugh at the very moment that John and Aeryn shoulder-rolled through the door, under cover of a burst of fire from the Peacekeeper commando.

The lodge exploded with a deafening roar. Splinters and debris flew in every direction whilst a plume of fire and smoke roiled upwards.

'~'


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

An eerie quiet descended on the scene. Apart from a few fires, burning themselves out, and the occasional crashing sound as another piece of debris fell or sunk lower, nothing moved for at least twenty microts.

Then a speck fell from the sky, growing ever larger, taking only a handful more microts to resolve into the shape of a Peacekeeper Marauder. As it landed, two leather-clad figures stirred, emerging from beneath the debris of the house.

"You OK?" John asked Aeryn as two concerned Peacekeepers rushed from the Marauder and rushed to fuss over them, helping them to sit up. By some miracle, he seemed to have a thousand cuts, bruises and splinters embedded in his leather pants, but, as far as he could tell, nothing more serious. Well, that and Aeryn's braid seemed to have come loose, but he was fairly certain they could easily fix that. The commando from the veranda had not fared so well: He lay, bloodied and disturbingly still amongst the debris.

Aeryn waved her hands at the Peacekeeper attending to her, indicating that he should deal with their fallen comrade instead. The newcomer nodded, turned away and did as he was told.

The trio of Peacekeepers guarding the perimeter presumably remained in place, continuing to fulfil their assigned roles. However, of Grayza or the remaining Peacekeeper who had been in the lodge there was no sign.

Aeryn shook her head and gestured with a long face and open hands that either she didn't understand what John had just said, or maybe that she didn't know if she was alright. Maybe both. That was when John realised that the only sound he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

As Aeryn got to her feet, batting away the helping hands of the two further, understandably concerned Peacekeepers who had followed the first pair out of the Marauder, John turned and surveyed the remains of Grayza's lodge, now just so much smoking and burning matchwood.

"Why….. She must have killed herself…. Why…?" Aeryn said to herself, unheard by John's abused and deafened ears.

"Babe," John said, equally pointlessly as, with the ringing in her ears, she could not hear him either. "We gotta stop booking Kiss as the opening act."

"~"

"This incident is unacceptable," the Secretary of State blustered. "We cannot allow you to just go around like this…"

"YOU cannot allow?" John raged, interrupting. "In the same way you couldn't allow your people to do anything about someone we told you was a criminal and who was doing her darndest to smear my wife's reputations? And now we've got two people dead and one badly hurt because you let that bitch…"

Aeryn raised a placating hand. "It's fine John," she told him calmly. John blustered on, under his breath, as Aeryn turned her gimlet gaze to the Secretary. "We quite understand, of course. Mele-On Grayza was a resident in your jurisdiction, and if you chose to harbour her, despite our concerns, we had no right to interfere."

"Damn straight," the Secretary confirmed.

"So, to reduce the chances of future misunderstandings, I want to ensure that my people are no longer in a position to interfere in the internal affairs of your country." Aeryn stated calmly.

"As it should be!" The Secretary replied.

"Which, of course, would require us to withdraw from all programmes to share our technology and knowledge with your administration."

"You…. What…?" The Secretary challenged. "On what basis… you can't just unilaterally pull out…"

"Look on it as us exercising the Prime Directive," she flashed him a predatory smile. "That would be an appropriate Erp cultural reference, would it not, John?" She added, ingenuously, turning to John and smiling faintly.

"It would," John smirked. "Spot on."

"Besides, we have no intention of abandoning Earth or its people. It is only your administration that this would affect. I can't see any reason, for now, that we cannot continue as we were in our dealings with other countries." Aeryn seemed to ponder out loud.

"But you… can't…"

"Of course, we would not _want_ it to be a permanent arrangement," Aeryn continued. "We would hope it would only be necessary until we manage to work out a better way of… respecting your jurisdiction in future."

"Are we done here, Aeryn?" John asked, brushing an imaginary mote of dust from his trousers.

"I think we might be." Aeryn smiled again. "Good day, Mr. Secretary," she concluded, standing. "I'm sure we can sort out this little misunderstanding. In time."

'~'

The loud burst of laughter from the couch caused John to look up from his book and glance across the room. He allowed himself a small smile at the sight that greeted his gaze. Aeryn, dressed for once in casual Earth clothes and with her feet tucked under her, sat in the centre of the big, white, leather couch. To her left, Livvy snuggled under a protective motherly arm. To her right, still close but asserting his extra cycles through a dench or two of personal space, sat D'Argo. The eyes and mouths of all three twinkled and smiled in unison in response to the goings-on on the TV: from the voices coming out of the speakers John recognised that they were enjoying their favourite sit-com.

Slyly trying not to attract their attention and destroy the moment, John continued watching them, peering over the top of his book. He revelled in the warm, fuzzy feeling that, for this moment at least, everything was fine. Livvy had even called a truce to her sulk about being taken out of school, possibly shocked by her parents' brush with death, possibly hoping that now she would be allowed to return to her studies. His family were safe and content.

And Grayza was dead. She would never threaten him, his family, nor anyone else ever again. He knew that he had more reason than most to be happy at that turn of events. However, the rift that the events surrounding her death had caused between the US administration and the Peacekeepers was not a cause for joy. He just hoped they could fix that relationship, and soon. And at the back of his mind, he could not ignore the thought that the circumstances of her death had been rather strange.

Aeryn, D'Argo and Livvy all erupted in laughter as another bit of slapstick befell one of the characters on the TV. John frowned, suddenly struck by how, in real life, it wouldn't be so funny to trip over a concealed obstacle like that, just when everything seemed to be going fine. Sometimes, as he knew very well, fate could be so cruel.

The end


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

NB: Those who like stories to be complete before they read them might want to wait until I post the next story in this series before reading this epilogue. That story should be posted sometime later this year, unless I throw a complete wobbly. It's written, I'm just trying to get it to a state where I'm happy to post it.

'~'

It was late at night when Grayza's charred remains finally arrived in Moya's medical bay. Chief Med Tech Jadim sighed as he powered up the medical scanner to confirm the identity of the corpse. He was only half paying attention: It had been a long day and he was itching to get to bed to sleep, just as he knew most of the rest of the crew were already. However, duty called, and like the good Peacekeeper that he was, Jadim always put duty first.

He pulled the bag open at the head end, detaching his emotions from the gruesome sight so revealed as he had done a thousand times in his career as a med tech. The scanner was now powered up, and he passed it over the ball of blackened and broken tissue that had once been a head before turning to check the readout on the larger terminal beside the body. The DNA and all other biometrics, such as they were, all matched Peacekeeper records. The corpse was definitely Mele-On Grayza's. But something else on the readout caught Jadim's attention. There was some sort of unexpected technology at the base of the neck, something not immediately identified by the scanner. Something not on Grayza's file.

Curious and alert now, Jadim lifted a scalpel and returned to the body. A macrot or two later he was squinting down at the strange object, still slick with gore, which he had dug out from the base of Grayza's neck. Jadim frowned and turned it over and over in his fingers, trying to make sense of it. Finally coming to a decision, he washed his hands before tapping his comms badge.

"Sikozu?"

"Yes…?" came the weary, semi-detached reply. "It's late. I'm tired. What is it?"

"It's Jadim. I'm down in the med bay."

"I'm very pleased for you," Sikozu acidly replied. "I'm in bed."

"I've found something very odd embedded in Grayza's neck," Jadim continued, trying to ignore the Kalish's infamously barbed tongue.

"Odd? In what way odd?"

"Umm," Jadim equivocated, trying and failing to find the right words. "Odd as in I think you should come and take a look…"

"I'll be there shortly…" Sikozu sighed, cutting the transmission as she resignedly climbed out from under the covers and began to dress.

'~'

"Oh, it's you," the man said, looking up from the computer on which he was looking up stories about Grayza's demise. The woman pulled up a chair and sat next to him, peering over his shoulder.

"Who did you expect?" she responded. He shrugged. It was not an unreasonable question, after all. This place must be rubbing off on him, making him think illogically.

He grunted in reply, not wishing to give his companion the satisfaction of hearing him concede her point.

"So, what is your assessment?" She asked when it was clear he wasn't going to speak without further prompting. "So far?"

The man shrugged. "Partial success. I don't think we're going to get everything we hoped for…"

"I always had my doubts that things would happen exactly the way you hoped," she crowed. He ignored the insult. He knew that of course things would not go as he planned. There were too many variables. But overall, the results had been satisfactory.

"I think we achieved enough to justify the loss of an asset like Grayza." He tapped away, pulling up a couple of pages to prove his next point. "Neither side has come out of this well, or trusting the other. The Peacekeepers are currently not cooperating with the US government. However, the coverage of Yvonne Gray condemning her mother's murderers and complaining about a lack of justice for them is particularly gratifying and effective. Public opinion is everything to these people."

"And there is nothing linking to us…?"

"It would seem not." He turned and smiled. "I cannot foresee a more opportune moment to proceed to the next phase."

"Excellent," she replied, standing. "Then let us do so. This should prove most…. Gratifying. Call the ship. I want them ready to launch an attack at the first suitable opportunity."

To be continued.


End file.
